in a global pandemic | In 2002 I was 28 and living on San Francisco’s not-yet-gentrified Mission Street. My tiny third-floor studio apartment sported a dirty carpet and peeling paint. The hot water heater took up half the kitchen. In the evenings, I’d climb out the window onto the fire escape and watch the sun set over the flat roofs of my neighbors.
Stepping into our power and its pleasures
Stepping into our power and its pleasures
Stepping into our power and its pleasures
in a global pandemic | In 2002 I was 28 and living on San Francisco’s not-yet-gentrified Mission Street. My tiny third-floor studio apartment sported a dirty carpet and peeling paint. The hot water heater took up half the kitchen. In the evenings, I’d climb out the window onto the fire escape and watch the sun set over the flat roofs of my neighbors.