Legion of Honor. San Francisco.
Helga Viking Lens, Blanko Film, Jolly Rainbo 2X Flash, Taken with Hipstamatic
She slipped out of work early today, and we went to brunch in Cole Valley. We parked the car, and on the street she pointed to a fixed-gear bike with a basket U-locked to a no-parking sign. “That’s how you know brunch is near.” We ate gingerbread pancakes. At the table next to us, a drug rep in a mismatched suit was getting all chummy with a pediatric nurse that M knew from her old rotation. Cloudy or sunny—the day couldn’t decide.
But I was happy to be out in the afternoon. M took me to her favorite museum in the city, the Legion of Honor. She spent a lot of time there when she was in high school, and she said all the old painting by the Dutch masters, and the Rodins, and the Monets were like old family friends. We went through the entire museum and we left exhausted. Funny how the museum always takes so much out of you. All you’re doing is walking around looking at things. But that’s the way it always seems to go.