Strolled through Pacific Heights with a friend on another one of those weirdly luminous San Francisco afternoons that seem almost to have become commonplace.
From Jackson Street the Bay really did look like it was filled as seen here with cobalt-colored ink.
Even the relatively modest blocks of flats were preening themselves as desirable residences. When I lived in an affluent neighborhood I actually hated it and no doubt would still hate it if I tried it again, but the fantasy beckoned anyway.
And to crown everything, a family of cement deer behind bars. Somebody truly thinks this installation is not sinister. Somebody evidently honestly thinks this all-too-vivid tableau is some kind of adornment. How easily it might have been missed if we had wandered down some parallel sidewalk instead. A lucky walk in every way.