If You Have Only One Week in L.A. →
I have a short story up on The Awl:
1.
Spend part of every day at the beach. I sent Jeff’s phone a picture of the line for cotton candy on the Santa Monica pier, all tourists from the size of them. He texted back: why don’t you photograph people who aren’t white? That Pacific blue-I used to run to the end of the pier and taste it. Jeff would have known what made the Atlantic greener.
My hotel was in Century City, with a mall attached. I could get from my room to Saks Fifth Avenue without my shoulders getting sun. The saleswoman said I looked lovely in a one-piece with a waist cincher built-in. Her nametag said she was Susan Murakami. I decided on a two-piece with steel rings at the hip and shoulder. I said I was back on vacation. So why not, said Susan Murakami. I thought of asking to take her picture, but I knew what Jeff wanted wasn’t photos.
