Last night as I walked back from yoga, night had just started–it was dark, the streetlamps were on, and the slow movement of evening traffic stopped and started at intersections. There was a cool breeze from the side of town where all our ethnic restaurants are, filling the air with its myriad smells, and it suddenly made me think of

San Francisco

and the nights I’ve experienced there when the breeze is just like that–not warm, not cold, and the sound of the city is so insulated in itself. It’s one of those cities I don’t forget, whose feel is familiar to me whenever I visit. In fact, now that I think of it, I’ve been there more than any other city in the country.

I love it. And I miss it. And if it wasn’t so damned expensive, maybe I’d live there.