The Symphony of Shivered Glass
Los Angeles is a city of mirrors, reflecting nothing but its own exhaustion. The rain does not cleanse the streets; it only provides a glossy finish to the decay. I have spent a lifetime watching the neon lights—those artificial stars of the gutter—bleed their electric reds and sickly greens into the charcoal asphalt. It is a chromatic hemorrhage that never stops, a visual loop of a city that...
0 Comments 0 Shares 3 Views 0 Reviews