I drive through the Santa Monica Mountains, in my ‘61 landcruiser. Down the 170 freeway, it is loud and polluted.”
There! the monstrous structure looms with deep antiquity! The infamous mold of old history! An erecting archetype grandiose of contemplating appeal!
The relic voice and starry persona of a city of luminous embers illuminates my senses;
The Hollywood Sign!
deterring attraction of magnetic temptation!
dreamy fixation of enthralling landscape!
As I drive south, I whimsically stare; I gaze at it; the deep simplicity and marveled persona, characterizing power and tragedy.
I am enveloped in my muse-child logic, which alludes an overflow of beauty in the tasteful palate of my blister popping mind! Hollywood: the stuff of dreams.
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