San Francisco




I haven’t experienced any loud burst of happiness of I Live Here! But rather something much more steady. Something soft and glowing, no loud cracks of fireworks to mark its territory in the sky, but rather something quiet and bright and altogether illuminating. I try to find balance. I quietly browse bookstores, flip pages in photography books. In this city, everywhere I go, I am a wallflower. I search for both poetry and humor in my life. I’m learning I need both to survive, to live, to bloom under the watchful eye of San Francisco sunsets. I watch the crowds, I listen to music in Kerouac Alley in North Beach. I sit in the poetry room of City Lights bookstore and listen to the shuffle of books and people. I found a place that makes exquisite Creme Brûlée. I make room inside me to feel both happy and alone, to be young and exhilarated by this crazy, beautiful, bustling city.