This story, while written by me, belongs to and originally appears in the “Los Angeles 8th Edition” collection at LOVE NAIL TREE. Check it out here.
They say LA is Dodger, Bruin, shoreline, sky, and levi-cutoff blue. Say cheese! Generations have been smiling here for more than two centuries.
Mi Corazon siempre soñará para las olas calorosas y las playas demasiado llena de gente en Los Angeles.
Behind the guise of a single season and incessant sunshine, though, the city of angels has features any foreigner would double-take. It is smog and sunset (that is, “smogset”) flavored pink—on any given evening there is a fire cooking in the sky. Hollywood is chaos the color of gold, land of dreams, pills and enemies. The beach is beige (the counterfeited color of imported sand, in case you didn’t know), and the history of south county has seen more bullets soaring the skies than birds.
Le sangrará para su cultura y sus oportunidades.
Still, 1 in every 3.8 Californians lives between LA County lines, and 2 of the remaining 2.8 want to. Why? We are experts at turning spoil into splendor, that’s why. We make misfits and migrants into prophets and kings. Land of the free, home of more than a billion American Dreams: come proudly with pennies to your name and at least you’ll get to bronze your skin for free. We are the melting pot of grit, sweat, fashion, ethnic cooking, a million freeway ramps, and failed audition after failed audition after failed audition after failed audition… and we revel in it. When on our deathbeds when we breathe our last we’ll say: “oh yes, oh yes, LA, best days of my life.”
Es donde yo, y millones más, trabajará, jugará, comerá, descansará y morirá, porque no hay otra cuidad que es mi hogar.