The barbecue area at the Santa Ynez apartments is the nucleus of life this morning. It is the balcony view at a quiet theater that oversees the main stage: the community center, the laundry room, a parking lot, and other apartments. It is 7 am and the day has just begun for the residents. Their feathery neighbors bring the first signs of life and sound to the stage. Many of them cacophonously shouting — crows who caw in the distance and smaller birds in nearby trees chittering like alarm clocks that refuse to turn off. They swoop in and out of red and dead leaves; sometimes following each other. Our antagonists, responsibility and sunlight, slowly creep into the cabin-like apartments and urge students out of bed and into the real world. As they trudge past the autumnal scene, the freezing air greets them like an obnoxious but loyal companion. It is still and knows no such thing as personal space. Rushing past scattered pine cones and slow walkers, a girl disturbs the scene. Her white backpack and blonde ponytail swing as quickly as her legs are moving. The sound of her athletic shoes fades out while a vibrant red car pulls in to the left. Its right light flashing and its owner walking towards the cozy apartments. While his car patiently waits for his return, a woman passes by the lonely barbecue area for the third time. She and a few others who have passed by frequently, seem like background actors forced to pass by every time the director wants to start the scene over. The car’s owner returns and makes his glamorous getaway. Loud Spanish calling replaces the car’s loud engine. The speaker reveals himself as he fumbles with a set of keys. The jingling stops as the staff member approaches a backdoor. It begins to feel truly alive now. Speeding cars and roaring honks plague the distant streets. Another car pulls into the parking lot. Its windows down and its radio belting out an upbeat song. A resident hurries to the backseat of the maroon Honda. She leaves her warm home and the echoing of her flip flops behind her. A new melody fills the space and it doesn’t come from another car. It's sung by a small bird who is perched high up in an almost bare pine tree. It takes command of this stage and for a moment, the world draws silent just to listen. This is the closing monologue. This is past the start of the day now. The sun is climbing its way up and the residents are noisy now. Creaking bicycles, slamming car doors, friends and birds chattering away. The barbecue area is no longer engulfed by the shadow of a young October morning. The sun has poked holes in it. It heats the chilly air. It makes it a warmer friend. The ambitious sun transformed the scene. Who knew it had so much power?