The song There are dozens of good songs about San Francisco. Haunting, evocative, meaningful golden hits. But there’s not a one of them comes close to this one. Coupled with the beautiful dancing and the iconic backdrops of the video, this Australian’s heart near breaks. I want to be back in San Francisco. The loveliness […]
I’ve been in some magical places in my time. A New Zealand cave with a galaxy of glow-worms lighting our upturned faces drifting in a boat down an underground river. Kissing my wife on top of the Eiffel Tower. Seeing sperm whales off Kaikoura. Standing before Sagrada Familia in awe. The laser light show over Hong Kong Harbour.
Kansas City – in Kansas – on a Saturday night. We headed off to Legends, a vast shopping mall built around a racetrack and sportsfields. An island building in the huge carpark, Cheeseburger in Paradise was our destination. There were thirty hungry BookCrossers to be fed. Just one of those convention meals that arise.
I’ve felt close to finding America in a dozen places. The wonderful array of glory in the Smithsonians, including the original star-spangled banner. The longhorns in Fort Worth. Driving a big Chrysler down Route 66. Looking into the stark pit of Ground Zero. Lifting my gaze to meet that of Lady Liberty. Fort Sumter a low shape in Charleston Harbor. Little Round Top, Devils Den, Gettysburg. A dozen long and lonely interstates. Niagara Falls linking two nations. The Marina Safeway: Golden Gate on one side, Alcatraz on the other. Or Arizona, oil bubbles leaking to the surface seventy years on.