Where angels tread: a walk through LA’s oldest park – in pictures

‘The road leading to Angels Point is lined with palm trees and parked cars. On the asphalt, broken glass, used condoms and a deflated birthday balloon shimmer in the sun. Footprints snake out into the dry brush. All paths frequented, all paths alone. Old sycamores keep watch from above, etched with names of past lovers and lost phone numbers. Below is a vast sea of highways and houses. Above, glass towers peek through the cloud of smog. Angels Point stands at the edge of the new and the forgotten. A place to hide, to explore, with no commitments, no judgments’