I walked around Hollywood as the clouds accompanied sunset. The temperature slipped. The night arrived, the garish colors of architectural sprawl amplified by the street lights. Across from a wigged out yellow pawn shop sat a building from the seventies- multi purpose, degrading then and there. It’s windows scrubbed from several different sign painting jobs now browned out in some places, music coming from inside and a crowd spilling out onto the sidewalk.
It had been a sandwich shop and an upholstery place in the years I’ve been walking past. With a mansard roof and wood creases every foot, the builders took themselves far more serious than the building ever did, that is until now, as gospel poured out with the seekers, cherubic smiles on everyone; suits, button down shirts on the men, hemmed dresse, and frilly blouses and bonnets on the women. They’ll make church out of anything, I thought. But then, I realized, I’d probably make my own church out of that place, too.
by Hank Cherry