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| Market St., Frisco |
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| Greg, who knows |
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| ruck satchel |
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| Coit Tower there |
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| there is Frisco |
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| the Church in N. Beach |
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| Zeotrope building |
San Francisco was beautiful yesterday evening. The air was warm and windless, the atmosphere
light, cheerful, and festive.
People were out enjoying themselves in a natural way. I did not feel tension in the air, nor did I
feel the threat of misfortune. I felt I
was living in the presence of perfection - a vivid fullness, a gently heightened
color tone. Yes, a treat for all of my
senses. Though I was alone, a solitary
rider weaving quietly through the streets of North Beach, Russian hill, and the
financial district, I could not ignore the pulsing romance of the night. It was in the air I breathed, filling
restaurants, strolling the sidewalks. It
lived in the cars and buses that drove by, and in the color and shine of
objects as light reflected off their surfaces.
All these together. I felt pain
in my heart that I could not be a part of it, and that I wasted many
opportunities in life that will ripple with sadness into my future. But I also felt grateful that I was still
alive, still just willing to live a little bit, and possessed just enough sensitivity to be
able to see and recognize the beauty and truth of eternal moments in time when
they come.
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