Abstract Los Angeles is wandering about, without a thought, looking at the details that make up this huge metropolis.
Today are photographs that fail to even vaguely fit into a category.
Lost, you could call them.
A pair of cameras, or eyes, overlook an empty street in a momentarily colorful warehouse district.
I can’t help but say it, despite my whole body screaming with horror in cheesyness.
“Love holds the building together.”
Ok, now I need to wash my mouth out.
And finally, love, abandoned, covered with dust, locked behind metal, slowly warps in the sun.
I’m unconvinced, given the arrangement, that the first love picture is really load-bearing love. I think it may just be love decaying and staining the building with its run-off.
(Sorry, I guess I’m just the sort of cynic who goes looking for ways to undermine cheesiness.)