Perhaps this is it, the shape of my way, not only in The City but also on and on. I might turn around and find myself inside the block, in a courtyard, or in the Sanctuary of Temple E-Manuel, so well guarded it seemed Jerusalem on the edge of smite and bombs, sentries posted to keep fear at bay. The look in their eyes hisses, “You, you do not belong here,” yet I do. Doors are for opening, guards be damned as I too am forever under this great dome with you all, San Francisco.
written by Dean V, April 2006.
foto by Jeff Sweringen
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