7 o'clock on Geary Street
From Ocean Beach to Tenderloin
It’s 7 o’clock on Geary Street, early in the morning. Sunshine leaks from the horizon and breaks in the curtain of night.
Days in and days our, it’s all the same. The broad way separates the ends of the city that have variety functions, and it leads to somewhere that you are going, probably in a rush. But for a moment—in/on/over—you look outside of your own mental maze and are arrested by the scene below. Outside you see cars. Then people, an empty street, then a car again. Those scenes build a calming visual rhythm of its own. Then you see the red sirens and realize that you cannot hear them inside.
You are connected and disconnected at the same time. And in this state of visual, aural, and spatial confusion, you have a window of opportunity to return to your sense—hanging out in time and space with no place to go but where you are.