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January 14, 2016
Southern California smells singular, like only itself. A warm breeze of eucalyptus and sand, rosemary and lavender, soil and salt. The house is cute but not small, and black and white and grey, just like they like. All that's missing is the sun, which shines in the back, where the alley is. All the backs are alleys and garages, so people live in their front yards, which, on the oceanfront path, is like being on display to the slow-moving human traffic jogging-walking-cycling-strolling-skateboarding by. Reminds me of Amsterdam red light district. Who is watching whom, exactly?