sigh

Today started as right as it can get: dim sum with the parents. Chicken feet, anyone?

The afternoon consisted of sitting through the usual LA traffic. I really forgot how much I loathe it until I found myself trickling along with the rest of the weary LA drivers. All I wanted to do was go to the MOCA at the Pacific Design Center to see the Hedi Slimane exhibit.

Well, I made it there. It felt like a long, beautiful sigh when I stepped inside. MOCA at PDC is really just a small, rectangular structure--just an extension of the bigger MOCA(s) in downtown LA, but it's so wonderfully manageable, like you can just cup it in the palm of your hand. It feels so insulated in there, especially since it was just me, the requisite snobby young woman at the front desk, and two security people (one of which I didn't see since he was lurking around in the dark corner, but then realized he had witnessed me and all my self-timer antics. Yikes).

It felt exquisite--especially upstairs, where they had two screens that projected Slimane's photos, ever-changing. The music was perfect, and it was dark and perfectly devoid of any form of human life, save for me and the life within the larger-than-life photos (and that security man, but I didn't know he was there till later).



I sort of wanted to stay there forever, exhaling all of the frazzling gunk and to-do lists and internalized disappointments and turmoils, and inhaling art, life, beauty, and the wonders of being myself, by myself.

But they close at 5:00 and I had to leave.