I was at The Grove Farmer’s Market in Los Angeles last Wednesday seated at a covered colorful bistro table in the afternoon amidst all the bustle talking to John Mayer when the urgent news came up that Liam Payne had just fallen in Buenos Aires. It was John’s birthday. I had gone off on my cute, sleek 2010 black Vespa to explore Los Angeles on my own, (he can’t very well go with me without making the news and that is not what is wanted that way for a number of reasons—this isn’t trading on fame, this is lifting things to a whole new level), so I was out to feel it for myself, in Roman Holiday freedom—in the very wild traffic,...
Continue reading