running red lights on memory lane

to old heart-haunts

There was a time when I flew into the States a couple of times a year, generally into SFO when possible. I’ve loved San Francisco since I was first introduced to it at seventeen, and shown its magic places and secret gardens by someone who had made a habit of roaming the city on foot, loved and knew it well. I’d usually stay at the Capri down on Greenwi…