LA, the place I call home

It will never be the same again

I’ve been trying to write you a post about the death of social media but since Tuesday I’ve found myself mourning something else - Los Angeles as I know it.

Even from 6,000 miles away in frosty London, with my little Venice bungalow thankfully still standing, the grief I feel is overwhelming. So much so I find it difficult to fathom how those who’ve lost loved ones, pets, homes, possessions and memories can possibly be coping. Or to understand the depth of fear experienced by the more than 179,000 residents who have been forced to flee, or the anxiety of those who remain and watch as wildfires spread and new ones spark. My heart aches for every one of them.

I too am glued to the news networks, the feeds, the wildfire tracking app Watch Duty and my doorbell camera. What I’ve seen, and heard from friends, is haunting. Entire neighbourhoods razed to the ground. More than 2,000 homes, businesses and community spaces destroyed or scarred beyond recognition. In the Palisades alone more than …