bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY

Fire Season

November 2nd, 2019 by Bekah Brunstetter

I’ve now lived in LA long enough to be aware of Fire Season, and of the fact that it’s getting worse and worse. (I’ve been so lucky so far to not have any of the fires come close to where I live, KNOCK ON ALL OF THE FLAMMABLE WOOD EVER.) Suddenly there’s surreal images of familiar places on fire and cars stuck in traffic next to it, as if it’s not even there. You wake up with a sore throat for no reason. But the worst part of all: at the beginning, before you’ve checked your phone to see that everything is now Fire, you go outside smell Campfire, and it warms you and makes you smile, makes you feel cozy and want to grab a guitar or at least a marshmallow, AND THEN YOU REALIZE IT’S THE SMELL OF SOMEONE’S HOUSE BURNING, and you feel terrible, and it’s a gutting reminder of the impermanence of things, and you go back inside and look at all of your Things and Things and Things, and imagine it all on fire, and yourself in the middle of it.

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