Finding old writing is my version of rediscovering flowers pressed into the pages of a book. An excerpt from my time in Los Angeles —
A couple blocks down on 30th and Vermont, a street taco stand sets up each Thursday night. Next to the rack of al pastor, a single folding table supports the kerosene hotplate and series of plastic bins, generously piled with chopped cilantro, wedges of lime, and pickled radishes. What I appreciate about this taco stand — like many others scattered throughout Los Angeles — is how it creates an intersection between all ranges of people. Family friends chat next to the salsas; a pick-up truck rolls up to the curb. There is an audible atmosphere of community; and though we all exchange friendly nods with each other, as a university student, sometimes I am the one who feels like an imposition on something special and routine.
My bike ride home guides me past the local taqueria, the high school, the Indian grocery market. It’s just a couple blocks past the main street, the unofficial demarcation between undergraduate apartments and local family homes. In just ten minutes of travel time: a slight increase in peeling paint, a slight dullness in the cars parked on our street. The details — of shop window signs or decorations in front yards — were not intended to be personal. But inherently, they are. The stack of colorful Mexican baskets at the corner tienda, the rocking horse and assortment of drawers stored on the porch next door: they do not simply evoke histories and anecdotes, but tell the story of economics, policy, entrepreneurship, and adaptation in Los Angeles.
From conversations here and there — in the laundromat, at the bus stop — I find themes. Job stability to provide for family. College education for the children. Long-term priorities and short-term fears are somewhat universal, and the same considerations mirror true for me. Perhaps this explains my inherent fascination with people and their stories — because something as simple as conversation can truly create a moment of kinship.
