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I still haven't quite wrapped my head around how much bigger Los Angeles is than Portland. When my mom and I decided to spend a day at Santa Monica, we thought it would be a good idea to take surface streets just to watch the character of the urban sprawl change or some other overly romanticized reason that seemed to make so much sense at the time. Several hours, multiple crumpled AAA maps, and one lost hubcap later, we found ourselves limping, proverbial tail between our legs, on to the freeway. Who would have thought that heading west until the concrete turns into sand would end up being so mind stretching? That sand was just so comfortably right, though. Shot these just as I was taking my first few breaths of salt-infused air, wearing my favorite ripped up, low-waisted-only-because-they're-just-a-size-too-big shorts and a white t-shirt that completes my recent closet essentials update. It wasn't planned, but looking back through these photos I'm pleasantly surprised by how well the combination blends into the pier. Blue on blue+white on white. My own little version of beach camouflage.