In which I didn’t get her name

I was walking away from the singer when she picked up a guitar and started crooning.

Oct. 2 was a blustery afternoon at Venice Beach but her voice cut through the brisk winds and tugged me back toward her. Some oddball dressed as a dog stood off to the side, completely enrapt. I took some photos, apparently, but forgot to write down her name so I could find the music later.

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Hyppester

I am surprisingly easy to blackmail.

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