The City of Broken Dreams...

It's a place called home.

If you don't know this place, I suggest you visit sometime. 

Beneath the hottest clouds live the coldest rejections. 

Beneath the coldest rejections live the hardest workers. 

They live in this city; a city home - my home city. 

Home is described in this town as your life.  It is everything you are.  You are everything it is.  It is an attachment unlike any other.  No mother can compare to the electric fire flies lighting up the night, throughout the land below, viewed from Mulholland Drive.  

From the nice cars, big houses, and packed freeways during rush hour... to iconic museums, great food, night time city lights and entertainment to fill every waking corner of every inch it kisses.  

Young women give up their small, Tennessee lives to dance two times as a background performer in a popular television show. Young men move into vans, and play in a band on stage, with their best friends, at every venue possible, until they are offered three minutes and 45 seconds of radio time on a local station no one listens to.  

This is the dream.  It makes some and breaks most.  It's the City of Broken Dreams... The only way to make it here is by never giving up.   

It's a place where magic happens.   Where stars share the same street corners and coffee mugs, where writers isolate, where singers become divas, where artists get weird, where the invisible find drugs, and where the homeless find a place to live.  

This home  is powerful. The strongest kill themselves and the weakest become nothingness.  

This home is alive! It has the ability to devour you.  To chew you up and spit you out;  to completely transform everything you've ever done to complete yourself. 

This home is an anomaly.  You hate it here.  But you can't leave it behind.  You always come back for more.  It is the beast and you are its beauty.  It makes your existence beautiful while also taking away your mere existence.   

Without it, you die inside. 

No one knows your given name at home.  You create your name.  You're given a name here.  You own it, become it, breathe it.  

The best thing about this city home, is its mystery.  Its magnetism.  It draws everyone in, at least once.  Some people can handle the kick it leaves in your mouth, and the cowards run for the only comforts they'll ever know.  

It doesn't matter what you wear, how much you make, the color of your skin, what's between your legs, what you fuck, feel, fathom, father.... there's a place for you at home.  

Where the outdoors come inside,  where the best is underground, there is no place like my city home.  The City of Broken Dreams...

-London. Alyssa.