The performance artist turning social worker Jen Collins (well, to be fair, both her and my new landlady Trixie) recently reminded me:

  1. what a strange little world Los Angeles is; and
  2. how reality is sort of like a big, eliptical orbit around a teeny tiny black hole. The souls we meet and experiences we have while drifting toward oblivion have a strange way of looping back into earshot and eyeshot. That’s not to say I believe in deja vu or that if you don’t know your history, you’re doomed to repeat it. In fact, quite the opposite. The repetitions are never exactly the same and each revolution brings the potential for a greater connection and a more complete understanding.

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