I live in San Francisco, the city of the eternal Saturday afternoon.
I make food. I eat food. I go places. I take pictures of those places.
But I always cook too much pasta.
Sure, it’s 60 degrees in Northern California. So how castratingly cold could that ominously dark green Pacific be anyway?
(Shot from the cliff top at Arch Rock in Point Reyes.)
© the nomblr 2009–2014
Observer theme by Zack Sultan