de Rachel Wolfe
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The West became a love affair of mine, sometime around the age of nine. Waking late nights in the woods, I would reminisce upon dreams of finding freedom in the wilds of the mountains and coastlines beyond my Midwestern rearing.
Rows of golden roots and shifting greenery suited me just fine-but fine is ok for folks who don’t wake from dreams they believe foretell futures.
The creative mind blesses few and curses many. For those who cannot withstand the raging fire of motivation either extinguish the heat into smoldering cinder or jump ship altogether.
The East tantalized me with systems of delicate order,
making sense of any experiential disbelief. Bored by the familiar I grew
increasingly intrigued of what lie beyond my American borders.
Especially in L.A. a merging of dreams a plenty sit at my feet.
Walking is experiencing the gift of the force which propels life. Certainty the subtleties of place became apparent to me in this space of West and East.
Incredibly same and without much to decipher, any state has the same to offer. But by way of the photographic image-something special is discerned to me. And I find that land of ESPLA to be especially, oh so Los Angeles.