Longing for L.A.
How Nostalgia, Memory, and Jet Lag Connect Me to the City
I ran away from home at 14 years old. I didn’t grab a backpack and go sleep at a friend’s. I didn’t steal away in the middle of the night. Rather, I convinced my stunned parents to send me to Spain to live with a free-spirited aunt I barely knew.
The ensuing year, my sophomore year of high school, pretty much determined how I’d live my adult life—at least so far. Madrileños taught this cul-de-sac’d suburban boy how to take nightly strolls, to find refuge in cafes and bars, and …
