Squirrel food

I can't get over the sky today. The Hollywood Hills look like some idyllic little Alpine berg, and there is a great mass of clouds hovering over, casting a shadow over one spot. I can vaguely imagine rustic families caring for their goats and deciding how much butter and cheese to take to market in the morning. Which is ludicrous, of course. It's the Hollywood Hills, for the love of all that is holy.

But the Hollywood sign is brilliant and white like a row of funny teeth.

Chomp.