LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
Her hair was dusky red. She looked like her photograph, but a little taller than I expected. Her dark blue ribbon hat had a short veil hanging from it. She was wearing gloves.
    After a while she moved across the arches outside of which the taxis wait. She looked left at the coffee shop, turned and went into the main waiting room, glanced at the drugstore and newsstand, the information booth, and the people sitting on the clean wooden benches. Some of the ticket windows were open, some not. She wasn't interested in them.

Raymond Chandler, Playback
Union Station


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    Interior sounds
    A musical impression of warm light
    An excerpt from the score of Casablanca
    An excerpt from the score of Blade Runner

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