After the long weekend we spent in San Francisco, Tucson feels very small.
Doesn't this look like a bank?
Our banks are in the corners of parking lots,
and there's no way to distinguish them from the drive-thru taco shops except for the signs.
Those pillars are bank-like.
I met up with Miss Nancy at The Ferry Building.
Sharon McCone always comes to mind when I'm walking in that neighborhood;
Marcia Muller's detective always seems to be walking out of her office at the end of the pier.
Now, it's a much trendier space than that occupied by McCone Investigations, Inc.
I waited in front of this sign.
Inside, there were Pig Parts and Slow Fast Food and Creamery Girl cheeses.
There were oysters and crabs, coffee roasteries and bakeries.
Some of it was do it yourself.
There was more, much much more, denizens, but traveling has left me exhausted and in need of some time alone with my roses.
So, I will leave you with this quote from an exhibit at The Exploratorium,
and its proof:
|hat and onesie courtesy of MOTG and Gr'mu|