San Francisco is still the most beautiful place in the world to me. It’s no longer as sleepy as it used to be, it’s certainly not as clean (was it ever?), and surely not as safe as it once was, and yet it remains special. Well, the heart wants what it wants, or else it does not care (it’s 90 years shy of a century, yet the truth of Emily Dickinson remains; albeit in a different context.) I’ve been thinking about the weather as it transitions from spring to almost summer, then from fall to winter (completely skipping indian summer) and all the beautiful walks i’ve taken with the people important to me. Feeling nostalgic today, perhaps.
Denise Taw 