I have exactly 45 unfinished posts sitting in the draft folder of this blog, and most of them are about events or topics that I’ve spent countless hours thinking about. They never feel quite “good” or “right” enough to post, and I get overwhelmed by how badly I want to express my thoughts or opinions in the most perfect way.
Ironically, this post – my first in a while – is something I’m typing as I head home from work on the train, and I intend to publish it as soon as I finish rambling on my keyboard. I was scrolling through the recent photos on my phone and came across a few I’d taken last Thursday evening, during an otherwise inconsequential moment that for whatever reason felt special. If you take a look at my camera roll, you’d probably have a hard time understanding why half the photos are there; they’re not scenic, or cute selfies (don’t worry, I have plenty of those in the other half), or captured on momentous occasions. They’re mostly just photos I’ve taken randomly, without expecting to, when a place or a certain light or a group of people captures my imagination and makes me feel a certain way. These photos are a way of remembering those moments, without having to explain them or put them into words.
Anyway, here are the photos I took the other night, as I was walking home from a bar in the Mission, the air chilly in the best, refreshing way. They aren’t great shots, or taken with a professional camera, or even meant to have some deep representational meaning, they’re just kind of… my love for San Francisco.