This is no country for old men. The young in one another's arms, birds in the trees - those dying generations - at their song, and so on, as Yeats was saying. But this isn't Byzantium. It's just Los Angeles, the city of the young, where the street art speaks of matters no old man understands. Go ahead. Walk the streets. None of it will make sense, but that's fine. Let it be. Age brings puzzlement, a pleasant enough puzzlement. This was Melrose Avenue, Monday afternoon, March 24, 2014.