The Beautiful Porcuincula River (AKA LA River) in Glendale.
A darling little flow of water cutting a swath of urban ugliness from the middle of the Valley down to Long Beach; a cemented and fenced off drain for all our piss and shit and motor oil and plastic bags and murder weapons, but in some places brave and equally psychotic ducks swim around in that filth.
London has the Thames, Paris has the Seine.
We get this.
But for some reason I love it.
No bank, no romantic bridges, no row boats, not even a current.
Just grafitti, some trash, and perhaps a gang of deranged ducks.
But to me, it means home.
The Mighty Porcuincula. The soul of Los Angeles.