Wednesday, February 15, 2012
When I was a little girl I thought that birds of paradise -- those colorful flowers with spiky beaks and orange crests -- were real birds. And if the birds were real, it stood to reason that paradise was real, too. But where was it? There was nothing in Los Angeles that remotely resembled paradise. I decided the birds of paradise must be in exile, and that someday, when the time was right, they would uproot themselves from the gardens and flower beds and manicured lawns of Los Angeles, great flocks of birds shaking off soil and leaves, filling the skies, making their way home to paradise.
Posted by Tai at 1:15 PM