| florecent_lights_small_tips_plastic_booths | ||
| Piso Mojado |
Sitting next to each other in the booth closest to the cashier, watching all the customers in this shitty 24-hour West LA diner. It’s 10pm on a Saturday night. We watch/wonder about the two young boys at the booth next to ours. They are eating a large dinner with a man with whom they are affectionate with, but who is definitely not their guardian. His voice is loud and his intentions seems unsavory, and I silently mouth “pedophile,” “child molester”- but my train of thought dissipates when I see one of the boys’ face. Features contorted with joy. Simple, radiating joy. The ceiling and lighting and occupants are so depressing and I find my mind wandering and fixating sadly on the lack of influence this tiny diner will make on the vastness of the universe and the history of mankind. I feel frozen in this moment of malaise, but our food comes, and we spend the rest of our stay flipping through DSM-III. |
030614 |