San Francisco, Still
There aren’t enough adjectives to express how I feel about San Francisco. My feelings are quite intense.
This city saved me from self-hate and from shame. It gave me a place to breathe. It kept me company.
Not many places embrace you as you are and also help you become someone new.
San Francisco loves. It listens.
It’s the tiny things — the parrots, the bonfires, the streetcars, the stairways — that made living here always feel so non-negotiable. Visits elsewhere only made me love this place more.
Until San Francisco, I never grasped the importance of beauty and the delicacy of expression. Put simply, I had spent my life trapped.
San Francisco lets you be the painter and the writer, the drinker and the drifter. Here, you can contemplate new ways of being.
Nothing can demolish my feelings, not even the constant “San Francisco isn’t what it used to be.”
The views of Sutro Tower, the labyrinths, the rolling fog, the Presidio. The road trips down Route 1, the beach, the mountains, the desert.
San Francisco still deserves applause.
Take note when you fall in love with a place and it loves you back.
Who ever thought that a city could love someone?
Who even knew that such a relationship was possible?
