The fires in Los Angeles are a terrifying reminder of never ending battle between the earth and it's inhabitants. My heart goes out to all the people who have lost their homes, belongings, and loved ones in the fire. The strangest things about the fires is that, from my vantage point, you can only see their glowing life forms at night. In the day they are just looming dark clouds above the city, but at night, they show themselves to the world. It's almost as if they are vampires, sucking the life out of the land.
I wake up to a sepia toned morning where the sun is blotted out by smoke. My car has a light layer of ash, that in some ways is easy similar to the snow that falls back in the east. A quick flick of the windshield wipers and it's gone. This ash could be from a burning bush or it could from some one's memories, carried up and over the mountains to my 97 Honda Accord.
Where I work in Santa Monica, the fire is a bizarre beacon of where my house is. I just need to look North East to the massive gray blob that hovers in the sky like a space ship. My drive home is windows down with sporadic blasts of the A/C because I don't want the crispy smell to seep into the car.
The fire looks like it may be contained, I hope that it is.
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