What’s something you’ve walked past a hundred times… until one day you finally saw it?
July 9, 2026 – 3:33 p.m.
A crowd cheers in the background at a nearby football field.
Football fever…
Hot day.
Golden light.
A reminder of another summer.
It’s 3:33 p.m.
Unhappiness seems to happen more and more often to me.
“Summertime Sadness” by Lana Del Rey is playing on my one AirPod Pro in my left ear.
I used to live on the 54th block of Los Angeles.
There, too, I remember the golden light of the summers of the early ‘90s, rocking to MC Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This,” and the golden light.
Happier times.
Sadness not yet seen over the horizon.
The corner of 54th Street. A billboard could be seen above a furniture store.
We had a great view from the top.
My parents had bought a duplex with my uncle and aunt.
“Roberto!”
“Roberto!”
“Are you gonna come out to play ball?”
The neighborhood kids, who would become my friends, would show up every weekend.
Diving into the golden light of the summers.
Now I drive by, and it feels like a place that only existed in my memory.
Oh…
But what a memory.
Enjoy your day.
Question
What’s a place that no longer exists the way you remember it—but still lives perfectly in your memory?
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