During the day we wander around the city in the damp cold. Everything is gray--the concrete, the sky, the slate rivers. And dirty the way only a city can be dirty in the wet.
Today we got caught in the Garment District during rush hour and were so overwhelmed by the crush of people that we ducked into the subway and left. Then I read all the way back to the 161st St. stop, just like a local would, and that's what I pretend we are for this month that we're here. After all, what do we do besides eat, take the subway, and cook? We walk just to see, and sometimes we pop into a library (for rest) or a Starbucks (for the bathroom).
I'm intrigued by the idea of living here. It's at once alluring and hateful. I love the ease with which one can slip into different worlds, and yet none of these worlds are as great to me as San Francisco.
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