Rabbit: June! It is fifty-seven degrees out, and despite the foggy weather, it feels finally like summer. At Vassar the change in seasons could be charted visually--in the growth of new leaves on elm and beech and Russian olive trees, or the yellow opening of the tulip bulbs circled in front of Main Building. But here the landscape stays the same, and the signifiers are different. Friends come home from school, street fairs begin, spring internships are traded for summer jobs. 

Mostly, I think, knowing I won't be here for much longer makes everything feel sweeter, more potent. It's as though the sensory aspects of summer native to most places (heat, for instance) have been replaced by an increased mental sensitivity. I've started thinking things like, In a few months I won't walk up the Castro hills/ride the 24/pass the strange houses on Elizabeth on the way to my apartment every day. I've even started to feel nostalgic about the living room furnace, a slotted brown box the size of a microwave. Must turn off brain. 

Anyway! Ali, my Vassar baby, came to visit from the East Coast this weekend. We rode the 24 from the Mission to Union, visited Nora's lingerie store on Haight, inspected purple potatoes at the Noe Valley Farmers Market, and watched a fight at Adam's (I covered my eyes). Also had sangria at Esperpento with G, wound through Golden Gate Park, ate the city's biggest burritos, and read about eye yoga in Green Apple. And made pancakes! Nom. 

Then we made a film to document the trip. 

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