count the time in quarter tones / by mrm

lovely sunshine, free time, and a surplus of thoughts led me to traipse over to Bernal Heights.  I took some pictures of my neighborhood along the way:

in my neighborhood, we have lots of tiny gardens

and taco trucks with folding tables

the pushcart ice-cream vendors are a constant presence.  I hear 
their tinkling bells approach and fade away all day.

I like this vehicle combination

detail on a DIY art motorcycle

I, too, am excited

the Golden Gate looks like it's trying to sneak up on the city.

the couch at the edge of the world

someone went to some lengths

San Francisco: now in technicolor

At the top of the hill, I could hear the wind making a soft fast whisper over the ridges on my corduroy jacket. This is what the word susurrations is for.  The hill is very steep, and I lolloped down, passed by fearless dogs bounding over what looked like (but thankfully, proved not to be) sheer cliffs.  Conveniently, Humphrey Slocombe was on my way home.  I love my neighborhood.