I walk down Vermont and look around for someone who grabs my attention.  I pass by Public House, the questionable sports bar next to the questionable Indian restaurant of the same owner, and glance across the street at a group of guys skating outside of the Kingswell Skateshop.  I get over there and find a guy standing with his back to the shop smoking a cigarette.  At his feet is a Siberian Husky. I ask him if he would be interested in answering a few questions, but he's shy and dull and  points to another guy that might be interested.  He comes to a shaky stop, slips off his skateboard and looks at me.  I say "Hey I got a couple questions..." He says "Lets talk."

ig:@Prolapsia

I take a walking break on the little brick ledge outside of Bank of America.  The sun, low and unimpeded by buildings, streams into the glass facade of "Churro Burro" the churro Ice cream sandwich place with the unusual mural.  It must be terrible at this time of day for the employees, who by now have to be very used to it. I wonder if it slows down business.  Next door sitting on a bench outside the hair salon "Heretic" is a young woman with bright red lipstick.  She's the one.  I run across the street and introduce myself.  This is Tess:

I'm on the subway sitting next to an older Armenian lady who periodically looks over at me and my camera.  A couple of guys sit behind us and discuss a pointless errand they have to run.  I get off at 7th Street Metro Center and decide to walk to Pershing square.  A young woman leans her elbow on a sign outside a gallery called Please Do Not Enter.  I introduce myself.

Dusk. I walk past "The Study" in Los Feliz and see a girI with a beer and a laptop.  It's a quick glance out of my peripheral.  I stop, think and walk over. She's writing.  Says she's a writer.  I ask her about her favorite authors, she mentions Miranda July.  I tell her I read half of First Bad Man.  She lit up and told me with FIRE that I had to finsih it.  This is Stephanie.