Summer this year just doesn’t seem to want to quit, and so I accepted an invitation from my cousin to go up the coast for a romantic weekend with her.
Today we were wandering around Fort Bragg, in Mendocino, sifting through the thrift stores, the little flea market (mostly tools), and the little shops. It seemed like for every fresh painted, big-boned sock shop beanery, there was another retail space either bombed out or closed down. Then there was Larry’s place, neither bombed out nor shut down, exactly, just re-branded an art gallery slash engineering and surveying purveyor who has elected to keep information about Larry’s work on electromagnetic energy, his chainsaw, his brother Sid, and Frank Koch’s war memory gathering sunlight and dust in the front window.
Also there were these insane NFS lamps with agate shades. More of Larry’s work. (Oh hiiiiiiiii, iPhone camera! Good job. Hi Boob Bag!)
The bike around the corner seemed part of dioroma—frozen in time at full throttle awesome. But when we passed by again later, it was gone.