It is a miraculously clear evening and I just came in from watching fireworks exploding in the bay. It's fleet week and the air has been filled with thunderous planes that rattle windows with every sweep of their wings. Everytime one flies over, all eyes look up trying to catch a glimpse. Driving in a convertible on a day like today has especially generous rewards.
This evening I went to listen to some music and ended up getting home around 8:30. I heard a booming sound in the distance. And without a doubt I knew it was fireworks and not thunder. Rather than sitting and listening from my living room, I got up, and ran out to watch. I could see the flashing lights ahead as I ran to the top of the hill. I looked down upon the tall buildings of downtown to the north-west. The fireworks were visible between two sets of buildings, perfectly placed as if I had the best seat in the city. Miles away spectators, shivering in the cool autumn air, had this magnificent display spread out before them. I watched from my view, fireworks exploding over the twinkling San Francisco skyline. A photograph of this would appear fake, a computer modified image. The finale roared one last flurry of color and then it was over.
I walked home shivering and happy from the impact of color and sound.
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