One of the things I’ll remember til the day I die, when I lived in LA around maybe 2005 I was walking through Hollywood once and ended up on the sidewalk behind this most stereotypical midwestern tourist family, all a bit rotund, oversized t-shirts and shorts and fanny packs

And the sidewalk – this wasn’t the terrazzo black w/red stars Hollywood Walk of Fame, it was just grey concrete but mixed with glass specks so it catches the light and sparkles

Anyway I have my own issues and they’re walking slow and I’m totally worked up into resenting them as un-self-aware buffoons

And the dad, who has this goddamn walrus mustache and a belly that leads the way by 6 inches, he turns back to his family and says in this deadpan I’ll never forget, “look, the streets really are paved with broken dreams”