Краткое описание: From editor: “The hills were alive with the sound of music. And I wanted them to shut up so I could sleep. I was parked in a campsite on the West Coast, forty-five minutes from Hollywood, when the impromptu concert began. I’d spent the day admiring the cinematic scenery - sand and surf so sleek, they should have had an agent - driving a seaside road that unwound like a shiny celluloid strip. But I hadn’t anticipated that anyone in the camp would assault the night with an audition. I’d just closed my eyes, ready for caviar dreams, when someone who sounded like Bob Dylan sucking a popsicle stick shattered the peace, singing and strumming a clumsy guitar”