Recently I saw a play about Griffith's hermit, written by Scott Howie and Matt Schulz. The play was okay but what really got my attention were the photos in the Griffith Theatre's foyer of how the cave looked when the hermit lived there. He had extensive gardens and rockwalls.
Here are a couple of pics I took when I visited the hermit's cave a few years ago. I like the irony in the top pic, now that suburbia is within a few hundred metres of the former refuge from society.
Old flame never tamed still alive in my chest your name sounding plain could still quicken my breath It aches a whisper quakes on my soon remembered lip as the thought is finished quickly my guard no longer slipped
Why should I even care? about something that was never there
Do you remember the blue moon? it was the night you made me swoon you probably never knew you were in another room
Ease back from that flash brought from the depth of my past to steal back into a self-conscious laugh For your memory will still exist after this moment has passed It's my lacklustre tale of a romance at half-mast
Why should I even care? about something that was never there
Do you remember the blue moon? it was the night you made me swoon you probably never knew you were in another room dancing to a different tune with some other dude
As much as I've been enthralled by the graffiti left around town by some misguided teen, I've been even more entertained to see her flamed by another misguided texta. Just as soon as Lori (formerly Lorrain Lee) had announced the latest in a string of romantic interests and she was set upon in her chosen medium.