DC is both cold and clear, two things my SoCal youth lacks. Ambling down 17th, I was as dark and cold as the night around me – justice denied, reconstruction stopped, fear and hatred and unhappiness trumping sanity.
Walking down into the yogurt shop, I saw joy – smiling figures from my past and new faces, dressed in the muted but charming style I’d come to expect from professional twentysomethings in the frozen East. Karaoke, trivia, and sweet white chocolate goodness melted into a ridiculous self-forgetfulness about politics and power and the future – even in the roiling heart of the furnace.
Thanks for texting me, J.
PS: Props to the Giants; it’s good to see San Francisco guaranteed at least one win this year.