Fin

This year began with the city burning down. I think it was a foreboding of things to come. It set the tone. Black skies outside our LA windows, plumes of smoke as far as we could no longer see, the stench of things burning - all the things. And so did our response become a fortune teller of how we would live this year. I sprang to action. I put on a heavy duty mask and went inside the Palisades. I photographed the carnage and helped out friends. I escaped myself and another to Palm Springs. I moved. I always move in chaos. I don’t like waiting for fate to surprise me.

The madness did not subside for a split second in 2025. With every text message, I wondered what could possibly be next. Our lives were unfolding like a series of 24. I would have preferably traded that in for a telenovela, but that option was not on the table. This year was not for the faint at heart. The losses were violent and heartbreaking. Collective and private. Societal and individual. What left did so in such a manner that it could never return. Not in its state. Doors didn’t close. They slammed and the walls sank with them. The cycles had to shriek to a halt. Houses were blown to pieces beyond repair. Relationships turned paper thin and were cut up into tiny shreds with razor-sharp scissors. People died in the most sudden and godawful ways. I still cannot make sense of much of it. I’d call 2025 a puzzle with missing pieces, except it was more like a helicopter had crashed in the kitchen. I often felt as though I watched my life from outside of my own body, thinking, What the fuck was that?

I believe what was lost cannot come back in any old form. Ever the optimist, perhaps it may be rebuilt one day like the new homes, makeshift or permanent, that housed the families who lost everything. Anything that returns will be resurrected brick by brick, from scratch. It has to be fireproof. It has to be safe. It has to be healed.

This year was a disaster. You can’t always get what you want but if you try sometimes you’ll get what you need. It was a year that taught us that what we wish for doesn’t come without pain, without grit, without blind belief in where we are going. Whatever fell away cannot make us doubt that we are heading in the right direction, as much as it may have hurt us like a bitch.

When the bells rang in 2025, I wished for three things. The return of the hostages. The restoration of peace to the region. Selfishly, for my own successes.

As the year closes, all but one deceased hostage have been returned to Israel, and not just the hostages in Gaza, but Elizabeth Tsurkov who was held in Iraq, and whose sister Emma - a dear friend - fought for more than two years for her return. As for peace in the region… the war in Gaza has minimized, and the people of Iran are in the third day of attempting to overthrow their tyrannical regime - the result of which would be the greatest move towards peace in the Middle East in our lifetimes. Does the Western media care? Of course not. They are an ally to the forces that declared war on the West and who have successfully globalized the Intifada, and created a permanent hunting season on Jews, Christians and anyone upholding our values.

The things I desired for us as a collective in 2025, although becoming actualized, took me further from the healing, light, love and friendship that I imagined receiving. It looked very different when it arrived. So to the people who held me in my worst moments of fear and hopelessness, I owe you a debt of eternal gratitude. To my readers, the time you spend here with me is time I will never take for granted.

For you I offer some solace about the wounds you express to me in your private messages. Perhaps as the arc of justice stretches out, as the difficult days endured turn tears into miracles, the strength that we needed to channel during this hellish run of years will inspire strength in those who were too weak to remain in the battle with us. Perhaps some day, they will understand it was a battle for them, too.

If they are giving you a hard time, it means you’re making them uncomfortable. Keep doing it. Nobody should be comfortable with the state of the West in 2026.

Sending you my best for it. Strap in. It’s going to be bumpy.