James Fridthjof Fagerskog
I’m going to South Alvarado Street, where my wife, who has osteoporosis and dementia, is in a nursing home. Nobody wants to be there, but it is a good place. Her name is Lila. Sorry, I’ve just started crying recently, and I find that it helps.
I get off at the MacArthur Park/Westlake station. And the people there—there are people selling stuff, there are people begging. I think it’s beautiful.
