Spaghetti westerns and U2 album covers fueled my love for the California desert.
The first time I pulled on my greasy Doc Martens and ventured by way of taxi, tube, and bus ride to the Scala Theater in London was magic. It’s the kind of place that has history literally layered on and peeling off the walls. It was inconveniently yet perfectly situated near the dark, dirty, and sketchy King’s Cross Station. There is no adventure without risk.
If you ever liked staying up all night watching off beat repertory film that defines pop culture in a hazy, cavernous, Romanesque, theater along with a bunch of other smelly, hip, young night crawlers, then the Scala was it.
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©2015 Walter Lockwood. All rights reserved.