It’s refreshing to spend an evening in downtown San Francisco after the rain has ended. The air is clean and the people seem renewed. Voices are hushed. And the sound of “Amazing Grace” played on bagpipes floats through Union Square.
Perhaps there is hope that our severe drought will soon end, that this isn’t the last of the rain. And perhaps there is hope that the drought in my mind, the drought of creativity, of focus and ambition, will soon be replaced with new ideas and new stories.
Yes, there is. As I depart the city via the new gorgeous eastern span of the Bay Bridge, it’s not the bridge’s gleaming architecture which draws my attention. It’s the hulking, darkened shadow of the old span to the right. Due to the lack of light, it seems as if the bridge ends in mid-air at certain curves. But not yet (dismantling is already six months behind schedule). But still, the sight of the steel skeleton, pieces missing here and there, spark an idea. I can’t quite voice that idea yet. I’m not sure where it’s leading. But I will follow.