After walking back to Miranda's home we rested for an hour before heading to the Mission District to play a concert at the Revolution Cafe for Classical Revolution. The room became crowded as we played, the seats filling with people, the air filling with the smell of marajuana. Oh San Francisco. As the other musicians had yet to arrive, we ended up playing our entire program for the intimate gathering, competing with the sounds of the espresso machine, the car horns and alarms outside intermingling with the rhythm of Prokofiev. At one point the voice of a man outside could be heard loudly pleading, "I need some rolling paper! Does anyone have any rolling paper??" After we played for a very attentive audience, a young woman came up to us, her eyes barely open and said, "Man you guys were sick together. That was so freakin' awesome. I mean like I can't even believe I just saw that with my own two eyes." It was a little different from the appreciation of the people at the retirement home, but in a similar way it was good to feel connected and close to an audience. I always feel so fortunate to be able to perform for people, in just about any place, any state or any walk of life.
We drove home atop and amidst the hills and valleys of San Francisco neighborhoods, viewing the sparkling night skyline from a street called,"Diamond Heights." What a beautiful city. So much to explore in all its little crevices. I wonder if there could ever be an end to it.