Hollywood was always best viewed at night. It could only hold its mystique in darkness. In sunlight the curtain comes up and the intrigue is gone, replaced by a sense of hidden danger. It was a place of takers and users, of broken sidewalks and dreams. You build a city in the desert, water it with false hopes and false idols, and eventually this is what happens. The desert reclaims it, turns it to arid, leaves it barren. Human tumbleweeds drift across its streets, predators hide in the rocks.
Harry Bosch in “Lost Light” by Micheal Connelly