A tired post at the end of a long day. An unnoticed earthquake in Silverlake. Driving down the 110 tonight, on my way to LAX, the sky was huge and the five-lane freeway started moving slowly, brake lights coming on, flashing like Christmas lights and I saw something I’ve never seen: a police car, with hazards blinking, and all lights flashing, weaving ribbons back and forth the entire width of the freeway, herding all of us behind them, like a pack of wire and metal animals. The car, so bright, with so many lights, kept weaving and weaving and weaving, dancing in front of us, on the sloping freeway, ahead of it, nothing but emptiness, above it, nothing but empty sky, with the lone plane landing or taking off, huge overpasses everywhere. Everything was big. It was quiet, it was strange, it was beautiful and bizarre. Then I arrived at the airport, finished listening to the radio episode on parasites, a strange dichotomy with the outside scenes, and walked to the arrivals gate. 30 short minutes later, my dad briskly walked out, with his Australian bush hat and his photographers jacket. Dad always brings a piece of home with him. We had a smooth drive home, a slow climb up North Lake and we arrived home and had a lovely evening with everyone at the house. And now, exhausted, we’re about to close our eyes. But I’m still thinking of that scene. Some days you wake up, and the day just surprises you.