San Francisco vanishes at night, like a modern Isle of Avalon.

All of her lights and her shapes, the loves and despairs, the smiles and the tears are veiled from view.

As the sun descends and the fog rises, 49 square miles dissolve into a gentle orange haze.

From the city’s hills you stare down into nothingness. You are alone. You are quiet. You can sleep and dream quiet dreams.

Because the city is there when you need it; waiting for you to dive in and swallow the full force of life.

But it also knows when to leave you alone.

A perfect balance.

This article first arrived on the interwebnet on Saturday, June 11th, 2005 at 2:40 am .
It's arbitrarily categorised as being about: Moments, Writing.
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You know, this article used to be 4000 words longer, but right before I pressed 'Save', the dog ate it. Honest.