Yesterday morning. I snapped this pic as I was leaving my new writer's residence in The Castro.
By definition it is just on the rim of The Castro, lingering on the lip; its milky dew, as it were. Who am I to emit aspersions?
Gift horse, mouth, etc.
I'm not sure why I can't seem to convert the RAW image into an acceptable jpeg. The image as it exists within the camera, and even within iPhoto, looks much nicer, more inviting than this. Darker. The colors here appear lurid and from the eighties, not as they were yesterday morning at all.
This is a San Francisco morning as it departs for its South Beach vacation, dressed in fresh electric pastels, powdered pigments, giddy with promise. This is what Don Johnson faces after a three day west coast bender, a Sonny Crockett, as they're soon to be known.
I will need a desk, of course, at my new residence. There will be expense involved, though not much. I will submit a list of my expected needs. I should have that prepared by the close of office on Tuesday.
I had meant to write about yesterday's sunrise and then its subsequent setting but now I have been sidetracked and have lost the feeling for it.
I was crossing the Golden Gate Bridge for the latter showing.
I went home feeling good.
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