We headed down to the record store, somewhere in the Hollywood Hills. We found a parking garage and wound our way up. At the top, I had to be the tourist— taking advantage of the height for a photo. I was shocked, looking through the lens at the trees in the distance, or between them, when the outlines of buildings became apparent, peaking out from behind the heavy air.
I recalled an afternoon, not long after giving up grass as a recreational pastime, when I spent twenty minutes looking for the book- bag, which had been on my back all throughout.