Sunset Blvd

Access. I give you access. Entrance into a space where you can become your greater self or, more likely, your delinquent self. Your key into a space where you let yourself walk differently, speak with an accent, patronise your husband. Play pretend, play wealthy. Play theatre and pretend you have secrets that can’t be revealed. If your life is interesting enough to be having an affair you’re excused from the conversation. For the rest of us, we imagine what it would be like. To arrive to this door each week with a different confidant. Mystique. Mystique in the well worn room that pretends to never have been used. Parties you wish you were invited to. After parties where you would have been discovered. In my twenties, the hope to get an invitation to a bungalow took over my waking moments. In my twenties, I broke immigration law in the hope that one day, one path or another, would lead me to Sunset Boulevard. Official invitation or interpreted suggestion, if there was a hint of an offer