A journal from someone who is living in the most beautiful place on Earth
Monday, April 23, 2007
On a street that was off the beaten path I walked past an old woman sitting on a bench. Her eyes were closed, and her face was raised to the sun. A shopping cart held her worldly possessions. Unlike her younger, insistent counterparts on Market Street, she didn’t ask for money, nor did she even have a beggar’s bowl.