Green. Yellow. Orange. Red. The leaves.
The Sun. The Rain. The Fog. The hills.
The still chirping birds. The trees.
The smell of wet dirt. The earth.
I love San Francisco Bay Area in November. And this year, there is nowhere else I wish to be at the beginning of Azar, the month of fire, the month I was born in.
Listening to the music, driving home towards the southern hills in the middle of the day, I was thinking I would go to Santa Cruz if I were crazy enough. And I am sure, I will be crazy enough one day and I will do exactly so.
"Oh take this longing from my tongue,
whatever useless things these hands have done.
Let me see your beauty broken down
like you would do for one you love."
Happy to go to the concert in a couple weeks!