August 31, 2005

New photographs from short distance travels

I always love going to S.F. On this occasion I was with my brother, whom I just picked up after his arrival in the states. He had been gone in Paris all summer. We drank Pastice in plastic, 11th floor hotel cups as our mom passed out on the bed. The fog drifted over concrete. Then erased itself. The next day became brand new.

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