I love this city
“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!”