Spirit of San Francisco

Directly across Post Street, as the light changed, a slight, red-faced woman with long gray hair stepped from the curb and paused.

With the intentional movements of a tai chi master, she slowly bent and squatted in the gutter, her arms outstretched in front of her.

Then, moving only her hands, she gently cupped them around something inches from the street, and scooped it up.

As we walked toward and around her, she stood, raised her hands and pressed them to her heart. She closed her eyes and smiled beatifically as I passed by.

She looked more content than anyone I've ever seen.