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THE LOST CITY OF LOS ANGELES
glowingly white. From certain angles I could glimpse crusted-red subdermal tissue under the masks—masks, essentially, made of their own facial skin.
Their eyes were housed in gold-framed goggles festooned with peacock feathers. Their lips could scarcely move as they mur-mured and gave slight bows before costumed gawkers holding up small black painted rect-angles of wood, with pieces of mirror glass pasted on…I realized the little rectangles were designed to represent smartphones. Shifting in the torchlight the mirror panels on the false phones glittered like camera lights flashing…
The walkway, I realized, represented a red carpet. They were slowly parading to a small stage where they took turns striking poses.
“That is the Blood Walk,” Calli said. “
