I came back from Los Angeles in June feeling depressed. Nothing could help me for two months. The south and the idea of it drag me down. I felt like I was drowning. What also didn’t help was the fact I was in Brooklyn. I fell even more into depression I couldn’t help feeling something was broken when it was not. I ate delicious tacos in Los Angeles. I felt I was foreign in the city. What cheered me up was the trip to the Griffith observatory. It had made my focus shift incessantly to the intellectual opportunities in the world. Many of my writings were documenting a sense that was shrouding my experience. It was mysterious and powerful. I left with an impression of things turning over like leaves. Etc.