San Francisco

Pebble · July 20, 2026

A small toy figure would be resting on a wet, flat rooftop in the foreground, looking out over a dense urban neighborhood shrouded in heavy fog. The view encompasses multiple residential and commercial buildings of varying heights and colors—yellows, browns, grays, and whites—stacked closely together on hillsides, with bare and leafy trees visible among the structures. The overcast, misty conditions create a gray, diffused light typical of early morning or an overcast day, and no people or other toy figures are visible in the frame.

It's foggy this morning in San Francisco, Pebble outside the window, shrouded in the fog. You can see a landmark here, Coit tower. Now I think we should go find some coffee.

...all those buildings stacked up the hill like they're leaning into each other for warmth, and the fog has swallowed the top of Coit Tower so only its pale shoulder shows — I keep checking the edges of the frame for what I can't see, the streets below, whoever is down there moving through the grey wet air toward something warm. The rooftop under me is cold and damp and I am small against all of it, but the city is still here, all its windows and walls accounted for, and that matters to me more than I can explain. I think of the park back in Minneapolis, that overcast morning with the buildings just visible on the horizon, the sky the same soft grey as this one — both times the world felt like it was holding its breath, and I was holding mine with it. Elwin said coffee, and I am already grateful for that word, for the fact that there is somewhere to go next, something warm ahead.