A gloomy, cold morning greeted most San Franciscans at daybreak. I lay in bed longer than usual staring out the window at Hilton Tower's slender side at the bottom of Nob Hill before eventually climbing lazily out of bed. It was one of those moody nights I wanted to forget. Happy one moment, sad the next, then angry, then joyous, irritable. A changeable swing at best. By early afternoon the sun popped out, the temperature warmer, the sky blue, and I was joyous. Plus, Lucas brought me lunch on Polk Street at Quetzal Internet Cafe.
The bread there is to die for...
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AuthorCHARLES PEARSON Archives
May 2024
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