“Velocity of Flow” Photo by Guy Biederman
Buying time, we leave on foot because there’s nothing like no wind and San Francisco sitting pretty in the bay to slow-walk one’s departure. Flaneurs-in-fact, the question of footwear arises — flip-flops the obvious; it being hot where we’re headed. When we reach the Gate, thermos coffee scalds our tongues. We freeze in pacific breezes and contemplate scorching deserts in our forecast; dustination on nobody’s map. Time to go, we know. Below, frolicking seagulls conjure reverse ideas—handlebar smiles, sandy beach, bare feet, inching backwards along water’s edge where dogs run free, re-feeling a guess-what joy that we’re not yet ready to kiss goodbye.
Guy Biederman divides his time between a houseboat, an adobe casa caretaking cats, a cabin, and the road in between. He favors strong coffee, scotch on the docks, and the desert’s wabi sabi beauty. It’s all true, especially the fiction.
