Short Cuts

I like short cuts, any route parallel to a main artery, for locals in the know offering, in theory, less traffic.  They are my daily passageways.  To avoid log jams at the bottom of my canyon I zig zag down the hill through streets that gentrification played a game of hit or miss.   On one side of a particular street is a wall lined with oleanders, and behind it, a convent.  Some days I race by, and others I'm stopped in my tracks by the beauty of the Mediterranean tower, the cross against the blue Hollywood sky and the tranquility that seems to exist behind the gates.  Today I was moved to photograph it and think about the monastic nuns who live behind the gate.  They live a life of silent prayer and raise money by selling homemade pumpkin bread, chocolates and peanut brittle.  One of these days I'm going to visit the gift shop and sample their wares.