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Los Angeles vs. New York is a rivalry as classic as Betty vs. Veronica, as old as the Montagues vs. the Capulets. But really, they aren’t comparable. Los Angeles is its own unique being; a place that I have grown to love.

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Even now as I write this, my recollection is mangled. By residual hangover, post travel depression or perpetual high? I am unsure.

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Have you ever driven through a small town (small being less than 10,000 people) and wondered to yourself, “What do people DO here?” I’ll tell you.

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It isn’t abnormal to see 5-year-olds biking or walking around the streets of your town, because it’s just that safe.

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A walk home from work is a walk through the parade of Nations during the Olympics.

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Photos don’t tell the town’s whole story, I know, and they privilege those that were deemed appropriate to hold or be in front of a camera, but it’s an easy—and kind of addictive—way to look straight into the past.