Sometimes, I dream of Los Angeles. Not L.A. L.A. But the one I left behind.

The playground of my childhood where everything was grown up and cool– too cool for me, and too grown up, even when I was finally old enough to order on my own.

I dream of midnight breakfasts and summers on Sunset- lit up like Christmas in August, if Christmas was more Rock n’ Roll and less of everything else… blasting Blondie down Laurel, PCH in the afternoon.

I dream of feeling untouchable. Special because I came from The Land of Angels, and that made me one too.

(Houston, TX 9:45pm)