Down to Chinatown

Yesterday it was a slow and sleepy Saturday in our corner of Los Angeles. Outside, clean and cool, steeped in the clarity and color that only comes after rain. I broke a lampshade last week. It was a glass one, part of the pendant lamp that was going to illuminate the inside of my "craft closet." I salvaged the bulb and cord, and went in search of a solution for reinventing it. I've always wanted a paper lantern. They remind me of summertime, of nights when the evening air is warm and remnants of daylight linger past bedtime. So we went to Chinatown to buy paper lanterns. And fans. And to ponder at length whether or not silk parasols are indispensable objects.
I didn't get a parasol; maybe next time. But I did come home with a small collection of lanterns, a pale pink one for the craft closet light and some accordion style ones I might pull out come summer. After traipsing down crowded sidewalks, past open store fronts and over puddles of muddied rainwater we came to a central square, where dusky light fell on intensely colored buildings spun together by a hanging web of lanterns and cafe lights. We stayed past sunset, to watch as they flickered on, strand by strand.