Somewhere in between the divorcee returning a sweater, the widow trying on a jacket, and the happy couple from Sausalito there seemed to be a clear depiction of what life is. 

Brian Wilson is dead, so is Jimmy Buffet. Along with any belief I had in the concept of retirement.

The Los Angeles air was perfectly dry and holding a lazy breeze.

There is something about the sentiment that being from this specific place will sink its teeth into you and leave its mark, branding and scarring you, for better or best.