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Postcard From the Edge: L.A. in the Line of Fire

It’s too soon to know how the region — and the industry — might recover. But nothing will be as it was, and solidarity is the only defense against the next disaster.

LA in the Crossfire

Fires and Fates

For those of us who grew
on the Westside's dusty streets,
an apocalypse was never far,
etched in the words of saints,
secular yet divine—
Davis, Didion, prophets of flame.

Los Angeles, the city burning,
Didion said, and we believed,
because we’d seen it burn:
Watts, ’92, Malibu's yearly wrath,
images woven into our veins,
told we could never outrun it,
perhaps, we didn't want to.

But beneath this city's ashes,
beyond the image in the smoke,
are lives, real lives—
working hands and struggling hearts,
fates woven through every street,
no longer strangers,
but bound by shared destruction.

The Palisades, once quiet,
a town of surf and sun,
now a scarred reflection
of all we never thought would change.
Rich or poor, we bleed the same,
displaced, as history moves its cruel hand.

The fires rage, yes,
but so do the deeper forces:
capital, climate, the relentless grind,
shattering us,
even the glittering few.

The city burns,
but perhaps it must,
for rebirth, for the unknown future,
for solidarity we’ve forgotten,
for the neighbor we’ve never met.

Los Angeles, ever fragile,
ever forgetful,
still dreaming of its past,
but now,
haunted by the fragility we once ignored.

Fires ravage,
but so do the echoes of all we’ve lost,
and all we might become—
a city scorched,
and perhaps,
finally,
ready to heal.

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