The Chronology of Broken Bonds
Los Angeles does not believe in absolution. The rain that falls upon the city is not a cleansing force; it is a chemical glaze that only makes the grime of the streets more luminous. I have walked these pavements for a lifetime, watching the neon signs bleed their electric violets and sulfurous yellows into the asphalt—a chromatic hemorrhage that mirrors the city's own internal decay. Nothing...
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