The puff of Venice smoke clouded my vision, making people look like dancing shadows, the sickly, dry smell attempting to be refused by the profuse blinking of my eyes. Closing my mouth and nose, and narrowing my eyes, we speed walked around and away from the shop that supplied the smoke oozing out of the door frames, to the various characters populating the span of the Venice Boardwalk and the beach beyond, passing the Freak Show and roller blading guitar player, pass the squid sand sculpture that would disintegrate once the day came to an end, and finally giving way to the famous swings that notify you of your official transition from Venice to Santa Monica. People’s taunt limbs were strung around the stiff metal, moving in pointed, strong bursts of energy, winding their nimble bodies around them. The Pier glittering in the foreground, the faint screams of people riding the roller coaster emanating over the pearly blue-green ocean.

I stood with my two friends since the first grade, on the cusp of the hot sand leading to the iridescent ocean that would inevitably burn the soles of our feet. Noa made the break first, her flip-flops dangling in her hand, her cries of both pain and amusement vibrating in the wide expanse of the beach. Mia went next, imitating Noa and laughing like a little kid, shoes clapping together. I followed, though not running, instead taking pictures. That’s kind of what I do.

The light was spectacular, the kind of light you can only get in Los Angeles. December in California was gorgeous, hardly any people out. Looking West, you could imagine the various buildings and tourist destinations didn’t exist behind you. The sun shimmered on the water, making it look much more desirable than it is, the dusty yellow of the sand complementing it in a way you would not see at any tropical beach, overtly Urban, and the running motions and screams of my friends made for visually captivating poses, their energy vibrant on the screen, the shutter clicking in a brief, mechanic snapping sound, over and over.

They eventually slowed when they approached Lifeguard Tower 24, the cooler sand soothing their crisp feet, shadows from the empty and locked up tower playing across their features.

“Stay there . . .” I would mumble, my words trailing off. Click. “Ok got it . . . Can you guys go onto the tower?”

“Yep,” Noa replied. Click. This was our system, and they didn’t complain when I had them in the same odd position for upwards of two minutes (which doesn't seem like a long time, but is), while I tried to get the exposure right, or the angle correct, or the framing perfect, etcetera.

They climbed the lifeguard tower, the wooden boards of the ramp making a thunking noise, giggling, only stopping momentarily to pose for a serious picture, then continuing their jumpy dance around and under the tower.

They did cartwheels across the wet sand, damp sand grains flying as they came up with a smile on their faces, jousting with imaginary swords, and making up dances the world has yet to see. They splashed freezing water at each other, squealing once the water collided with their goosebumped skin. They did yoga moves over the side of the tower, smiles running across their faces, dimples shone. They ran up and down the ramp, jumping and giggling, hair flying behind them in the breeze, California cool seeping out of their every spontaneous motion, out of every effortless grin. I didn’t stop smiling the entire time.
This is my happy place.

Two hours passed, and my mom came looking for us, having lost track of us in the swarm of oddities on the Venice boardwalk.

“What have you guys been doing?” she questioned, looking us up and down from our sea swept hair to our water soaked pants, and the slight but ever present scent of salt emanating from us.

“Taking pictures and such,” I replied promptly, with Noa and Mia nodding their heads beside me.

“Cool,” she responded. Nothing else asked.

We piled into the car, our sand encrusted feet shedding into the crevices of the car, and drove off past the picturesque palm trees and sun soaked bodies.