Down Valero, To The Right
By Jose Barrera Aguirre | @munksandberries
If you go down Valerio, take a right on Matilija Avenue, you’ll end up in a small neighborhood that consists of Runnymede, Mammoth Avenue, Cohasset Street, and Murrieta. Within these four streets, I walk anywhere from 20 minutes to 2 hours. Some might say that there’s nothing special about these 4 streets, but, to me, there is.
My art history professor once told me that in order to really understand a painting, you have to sit and observe. Slowly, you’ll begin to see more than you ever have at first glance; how the painting moves with the eyes, how the colors so easily blend into one another, how each individual brush stroke can emulate the movement seen by the artist.
I started running in this neighborhood a couple of years ago, and when wanting to listen to “Seven Wonders” by Fleetwood Mac, I had accidentally clicked on “Seven Words” by Weyes Blood.
It was a warm day in Los Angeles, the sun was slowly starting to set, and as I started running to this accidental click, the sun pierced through the leaves of the trees that swayed with the wind causing these fragmented rays of sun to glisten on my face.
Not only were my dreadful runs now more enjoyable, but there was a soothing of energy that came with these almost still-life images captured through my blurry vision (I have poor vision, this isn’t me trying to be poetic).
Fast forward a couple of years, and I’m back home—not by choice, but in the midst of a pandemic causing many individuals to lose a sense of what once brought them comfort. A place of joy and memories of childhood became only a place holding one captive from the life they had created elsewhere.
In these 4 streets, I find comfort. The way the trees seamlessly drape over one another causing a tunnel like effect, how the birds communicate by chirping, the sounds of construction workers hammering away in the distance, but most enjoyably the odd connection between the houses, the cars, and the people who make up these 4 streets.
As I finish writing this, sitting on a curb that has been slightly lifted to an angle by the ever growing roots of the tree behind me, I continue my walk. Slowly, finding comfort in my 20 minutes to 2 hours of walking alone—or social distancing—in a time where people could only hope to see one another.
