On my first day in San Francisco last week, the weather was spectacular--warm air, flawlessly blue skies. It was Saturday and people were celebratory. A woman told me that I was lucky, that the weather had been awful the week before. Nope, I said, San Fran is always like this when I come. And it is true. The sunny, blue sky San Francisco is the one I dream. Big crowds swarmed in every square. For me, they were exotic, their faces, their clothing. I was an adventurer in a foreign land, a dreamland, they the subject, I the "other."
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