San Francisco

There is something about San Francisco that makes me feel…small. Not in the physical sense, (I still felt slightly taller) but in a grander, take-in-the-bigger-picture kind of sense. It’s a humbling feeling really, to think that I’m just a dot among 800K other dots, that I shared the same piece of ground as former planet shaking individuals, that I am just a shadow amongst the skyscrapers that drape the horizon.

There is something about San Francisco that makes me feel…alive. You know that feeling? When a whisper formulates at the bottom of your belly that gently builds more and more momentum, rising higher and higher in and through your lungs, till it becomes an uncontainable roar of energy that demands to be released into the world. That. It’s an exhilarating sense of sensual overload that cries for your brain to process everything quicker. When safe and monotonous Mr. Suburban is all I’ve known my whole life, Mr. City has been nothing but wondrous and breathtaking.

There is something about San Francisco that beckons me to come back. To explore the paths less traveled, to engage and learn more about the stories that its citizens are waiting to share, to be refreshed with bountiful douses of curiosity.

Here’s to a beautiful amalgamation between my heart and the city of San Francisco.