My Neighborhood Tells
Ventura Boulevard seems to grow more expensive by the hour. Every year, new businesses come in, and small shops change hands. I’ve seen a mattress store become a gym and a peach juice bar. Yes, things can get niche here. I don’t remember what this building used to be. Perhaps offices. It’s a marijuana dispensary now. There’s about one every half mile, sometimes one on every street corner.
I’m leaving.
This building reminds me of the first time I woke up in L.A., my new home, and went for a walk. Pink apartment buildings and pastel homes with manicured lawns and palm trees set against a massive, cloudless blue sky. The sun shone like someone had turned on every light in the room. I was apprehensive but trying to feel excited. I was walking and trying and trying and walking, and all I could feel was fear, concern, and a bit of confusion. I’d thrown myself out into one of the most expensive cities in the world with nothing and no one but two cats. I’d just flown in with two suitcases and left everything else behind in Philadelphia.
What had I done to us?
