The world is at its best when it is nestling itself into the night's sleep. Second to that are the first stirrings of morning, before the crush of humanity has a chance to break the spell. A summer morning in San Francisco is particularly satisfying. Come July a thick, fog blanket shrouds the city in its daybreak which makes San Francisco the most silent of summer cities. This is especially true when one is away from the main arteries that feed the caffeine-starved commuters into downtown. A walk along the side streets and into the parks we find the morning vignettes that define the foggy, San Francisco dawn.
San Francisco has always been a city of individualists. One can make one's own path in this most tolerant of cities. And so the city morning is filled with lone souls doing their lone things, walking their own walk. There are few places where one can feel alone yet be among other humans. This city one of those places. Especially in the fog.
Carrying a camera is my way of being alone in San Francisco. It makes me feel alone, yet connected. It is the way I like best to celebrate a foggy city before the afternoon sun and the bustle of a million souls burn off the magic.