Sometimes, late at night, when I'm working in my studio, it's just me and the sleeping body of the city below. Low clouds on the horizon look like seafoam from dirty waves and I pretend I'm looking across a dark beach scattered with broken shards of shells and glass reflecting light from a distance. It's almost quiet, except for the deep rumbling from the highway that is muffled by the trees and twisted with the wind through the buildings ; it sounds of the (my) heavy Pacific roaring at night , without all the salt. Summer rains like sea breeze through the window, cool and expansive reminders : Wherever I go, it's always the same. The horizon: the shore. The rest: water, and then me: the distant light illuminating certain small edges.