How many landscapes can you see in eight hours in California?
Because no matter how much nicer other beaches seems to get, Redondo is always home.
You can count on me.
I distinctly remember connecting to this line in The Great Gatsby, but it's really just an excuse for the basic af fall photos. Don't worry, no pumpkin spice lattes.
It's not quite the Atlanta out of Jermaine Dupri's universe, but it's pretty damn delicious.
Some love letters as novelty wears off and culture shock sets in. (Inspired by that very good Netflix movie that you should definitely watch.)
Nothing makes you realize the weird quirks of your own culture quite like a country where you all speak the same language, yet somehow don't.
Not with a bang but with a whimper, so to speak. And a strange twist.
My Valentine's Day special advocating for early (and age-appropriate) sex ed. How romantic, right?!
How can we rank bookstores? By aesthetics? Coziness? Selection? Notoriety? The cuteness and cuddliness of the live-in cats?