The other day,

I was walking down a street that I have driven down hundreds of times before: LaCienega, just south of Sunset.

Suddenly, I discovered a Japanese style garden apartment with an ornate red gate and plantings of bamboo and pine. A plaque on the exterior said this was “The Lotus” and it had been constructed in 1928.

A two-story structure that should have been in some corner of Kyoto. I half expected a woman in a Kimono to come outside and welcome me with a tray of tea.

This is the way Los Angeles is.

You can live here for many years and never quite know the city. Just when you’ve tired of the grossness, and your mind can only conjure up an endless stream of billboards and traffic, you may find yourself inside an aesthetic jewel, long hidden from the passerby, built long ago, and still home to a special few who can retire here at night in a fantasy world separate and apart from the banality beyond the gate.

From what I’ve read, they may convert this property to a bed and breakfast. “The Lotus” is part of makes Los Angeles bewitching and forever an enigma.