I started a job finally and was about two weeks into it. I was living over in Russian Hill after a week and a half living in the Mission. One Saturday night I was walking back home from the restaurant, it was around two a.m. Everything seemed different. I realized I was still smiling.The air seemed more fresh, and I didn't even feel tired. I had just spent the past 7 hours laughing more than I had in the past year. I passed through all the strip clubs of North Beach with a smile on my face.The drunken thugs around me seeming invisible as I navigating my way around them. Past that through the quiet and empty streets near the green with their shop windows all closed for the day, with their chairs on tables awaiting the morning for people to come in and have espresso. The city felt like mine for a moment. I wandered up the tall hill toward Chestnut street, so deep into my own world that I didn't even notice how steep of a climb it was. I came across a door cracked open and beyond it was a courtyard surrounded by paintings lit up. I walked in and someone else had the same idea I did. We looked at the paintings and talked about them for a moment. He said he was a photographer. It was part of an art university here and this was one exhibit. After looking for a while at them I slinked back out. I continued toward what was home this week. When I got to the top of my street I looked down and all I can see was one long avenue with lights aligning the sides,stretching forward until it disappeared. The whole of the Richmond was spread out in front of me going into the distance. In the night when no one else is around is when you can really look, a place will let you in to see the other side of it. I realized that I felt so far from where I started before I left New York almost two months ago. I didn't realize how far until this moment. I took a photo, looked around me for another moment and took in where I was, then walked down the stairs.