LA

I am sitting at a desk in Santa Monica, next to floor to ceiling windows, huge fronds brushing up against the screen. I just made a list of places to go shopping today. I also jotted down some restaurants. Last nite when we arrived to our hotel (which is also an apartment for some) Steven mentioned that he could see himself writing music at the desk in our room. I looked around and felt that I could write poetry in this room. There is a great European feel to the hotel. Just what we were looking for. I almost can't believe that I am here. We have been looking forward to this trip for so long. And now I am making shopping lists staring in to a courtyard on a Tuesday morning, far away from home and I don't want it to end. I wish that life could be magical like this everyday.