I regret that I didn’t bring the battered Nikon I’ve had since high school. I press my hands against the balcony rail and lean forward, drawn to the intense, unreachable beauty of the setting sun. Blue-gray waves shimmering with dappled gold. Bloodred clouds bursting against the pale orange sky. Not to lust over the panorama that is coming alive in front of me. It is a gala art opening, after all, and my boss brought me here to meet and greet and charm and chat. Of course, I could leave the balcony and go back inside to the party. LA Lesson Number One: Always carry a sweater if you’ll be out after dark. Not so in California, at least not by the beach. In Dallas, June is hot, July is hotter, and August is hell. I arrived in Los Angeles only four days ago, and I haven’t yet adjusted to the concept of summer temperatures changing with the setting of the sun.
A cool ocean breeze caresses my bare shoulders, and I shiver, wishing I’d taken my roommate’s advice and brought a shawl with me tonight.
0 kommentar(er)
