Friday, June 24, 2005


There was a theater down the street from where I grew up that had thick, red velvet curtains in front of the screen. I remember watching them pull away as the lights dimmed and the beam from the projector began dancing across the screen. Trumpets sounded. The drama of those opening moments breathed new life into the dullest of movies.

Here, in California, it's the smog that pulls away and unveils the story of this sleepy little town. The mountains are my red curtains. The sun, my projector.


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