
I’m the kind of person who knows one or two other people in my life who know how to cook ramen noodles and rarely leave the house on the weekends unless the delivery guy drops off a package at the guardhouse. But somehow, I ended up living in San Francisco for a year on my own, and I’ve been meaning to document my settling in and struggles from a living perspective as I find the time. But surviving – for any length of time – has a different weight than traveling.
As a traveler, Market Street is a pretty street with Bloomingdale’s and the end of the cable car, but as a survivor, it’s a depressing street full of homeless people and the smell of weed. But life is a series of new discoveries, and every once in a while, something unexpectedly pleasant would happen, and I’d stumble upon something surprisingly pretty right under my feet.
That’s how I ended up spending my weekends at the Presidio Park Starbucks in San Francisco’s west end, overlooking the Pacific Ocean, documenting a place that’s not a travel destination, but a place where people live,
I call it “San Fran Chronicles”
I’m going to try and organize and polish up some of the ramblings I wrote while I was living there, and I’m not sure I can do it justice, but I’ll worry about that later, so let’s just slowly go back to San Francisco in 2015-2016.
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