Ian totally got lost, but it was Silverlake, and he’s a westsider, so I don’t blame him. Looking at Silverlake on a map is more than a bit like looking at a bowl of spaghetti, just roads that stop for no reason or intersect with others ad infinitum.
And I felt his pain as he called for assistance, I really hate getting lost, feel a sense of angry helplessness. Make a man grind his teeth, it will.
But he got there, and it all turned out, because it was a good day, and when you’re in the throes of a good day, you just have to sit back and let things work themselves out.
He arrived weary and tired, but an ice cream sandwich put paid to that, at which point we got down to the business of being wicked good photographers.
