“Love makes this town go round, my loyal reader, love and hate, pot and booze, despair and buckets of black coffee, most of it stale. But when the wind is fresh off the sea and you’re walking in the sunshine with the foghorns already blowing way out there by The Gate, you know this is where you want to be, loving what you see, hating it only for not being what it could be.” - Herb Caen, 1976