A Julian si andava a mangiare la torta di mele, di ritorno dal deserto di Anza Borrego.
Di Julian era la persona a cui regalai la mia Honda Accord dell'81. Si portò via anche quella di Paola, che di diverso aveva solo il colore: di due auto ne fece una.
Ora non c' è quasi nessuno.
"On their last leg of the 2,650-mile Pacific Crest Trail on Wednesday, the two brothers thumbed a ride into Julian to eat a gloriously greasy meal, have a beer and load up on provisions.
But the historic town, with its wood-porch storefronts and wagon wheel decor, was a veritable ghost town, with no power, no phones, no water, few people.
Having receiving only snippets of news during the Canada-to-Mexico trek, they were flabbergasted -- and crestfallen.
"We knew there were fires, but we didn't think all of San Diego was on fire," Luke Larson said. "
(...)
No respite in Julian, Joe Mozingo, Los Angeles Times, 25 ottobre 2007
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