The constant roar of Los Angeles used to drive me insane. I was thinking about that the other day, as I walked back down the Getty driveway, about the 405, and how the noise from that and from the 10, or the 101, or the 5, was always at the back of my mind, no matter where I was in Los Angeles. About how I used to have to leave the city every so often, to get away from too many people, too many cars, too much noise.
Now, I’m almost used to it. But lately, I have been dreaming of quiet again. Of someplace that isn’t Los Angeles. I don’t much care if it’s out along the desolation of old 66, the biting cold quiet of the desert, or if it’s the western coast of the Island, with the constant damp, rain and fog muffling most of the sound.
Twelve days to Christmas break, and by then, I will need it even more than I do now.