Barbara Kapelj Osredkar

It’s beautiful calm night under eucalyptus trees here, under Twin Peaks tower, which I can see through my window. I’m local! I’m so proud to be local, to be part of these Twin Peaks community. It was one of the greatest joy when I’ve seen pink triangle glowing on the Pink Castro night last week and then all the people dancing on the Market street. Maybe I was trying too hard to catch all the beauties and the mysteries of this great town. I was trying to swallow the whole town now when I have to leave. I found out that I have the same soul as my great grandmother Ana Lim, who came to live in Carmel and never come back to Slovenia. It was 50 years ago and all my life I couldn’t understand her story. I was all the time asking myself: “Why?” And I think I’ve found the answer now or I can say I understand her completely. At the moment I can’t imagine how I will survive not to slide down by the car on the 17th street and see the beautiful oily bay, full of huge ships. How I will breath without this pure eucalyptus perfume, without all these beautifully colored Mediterranean vegetation? Without stopping on Height street?  We went to the PJ Harvey concert in the Warfield and when she was singing California, I got tears in my eyes. Her screaming voice was as all my feelings. “I’m living!” And I’ve remembered the beautiful days with my wonderful friends from the past in the loveliest  place on the world, somewhere in Siska, in Ljubljana. Sanja and Pero and Natasa, the best people in the world, where I had the most beautiful moments of my life. We were smoking Galouisses red. Actually all my best friends and soul-mates were from Siska. And they were all smoking Galouisses. Maybe Siska has something that San Francisco can’t imagine at all. On one hot night I found myself among strangers and I was scared for a moment. But then I was trying to breath and be calm and I said to my self: “That’s only one moment in time. One moment in San Francisco.” And I’ve heard the morning birds singing…

“I love this city,” said a young guy who was designing the light in a theater performance named Land Escape. We were standing between 6th street and Howard and the beautiful young black woman was slowly passing by in a white fake fur. So slow in high hells that she seamed to me as in a dream.

“And where are you from?” I’ve asked the guy.

A Mexican lady was parking along and she was shouting from the window to somebody in the house. A Chinese old woman was driving her stroller, full with plastic and fabric bags. A black guy was smoking a cigarette and singing. A perfectly dressed up clown was skating and juggling with fire in the middle of the street between the cars against the stream of the cars. Smiling.

“I’m from San Francisco, of course.”

I also become in love with this city. I’m shouting now every day: “I love this city!”