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I say this and...
>
The air in Los Angles is slightly poisonous, but, in its
thickness, it's miraculous. It holds and diffuses the sun.
The city is immersed in a soup made of light. The glowing
air softens the line between dreaming and walking so that
people's inner lives leak out and the hard won partitions of
adulthood rot away for afternoons at a time. You don't
notice the smell of gasoline and rubber; you don't notice
time passing.
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I say this and...