Last week, we shook off the minus double digits of the Chicago winter in favour of sunny, clear 23C in San Francisco. We spent some time wandering my old ‘hood. A few things had changed, but not much.
San Francisco is still a place that makes my heart do backflips. It possesses a natural beauty, but there’s much more to the city than a bunch of buildings on a peninsular surrounded by water. There’s a vibe, a magnetic field. I feel real there. I feel like me.
“San Francisco itself is art, above all literary art. Every block is a short story, every hill a novel. Every home a poem, every dweller within immortal. That is the whole truth.”
— William Saroyan
SF is still my favourite city in the world. I’ve found nothing else that compares.