Yesterday saw a red tailed hawk perched on a street lamp on Centinela Blvd (ironically centinela means sentinel in english)...and it just seemed so out of place, out of sync with the traffic signals and the 7 eleven and the dotted line of cars below. And in that moment I was the hawk, taking it all in from a perch, just trying to adapt to the neverending set of changing circumstances and moods, belonging to something else but needing to survive here.

And what I had known in the morning with certainty seemed of little use by the afternoon and barely believed by night.