When you are greeted by Hollywood’s puma. When you are walking with a full belly. When you feel the cold slap of the Santa Monica Mountains because the sun has already swam across the Pacific. Oozing from its black and yellow scan: melancholy.
And if you ever fall asleep again, you’ll feel it. It’ll feel like honey from a hive poured out a window on the 79th floor of a skyscraper.