USA

Markets, Masks, and Identity: The Soul of San Francisco

A city’s character isn’t found in its skyscrapers or postcard views. It’s in what is sold, what is bought, and who walks its streets. Its markets, its chaos, its colours—these are where a city’s soul truly rests.

San Francisco wears many faces—quite literally, in the form of masks for sale. Mickey Mouse, superheroes, nameless grins and exaggerated expressions. Playful? Yes. But also a quiet reflection of the city itself. Inclusive. Plural. Always shifting.

No single mask defines it. No single story captures it. But together, they form a place that welcomes all, wears change effortlessly, and lets you be whoever you choose to be.

That’s San Francisco. A city of many faces, all of them its own.

Bay Bridge: The Underrated Icon of San Francisco

There are bridges. And then there are bridges like the Bay Bridge—a quiet giant, standing tall, strong, and purposeful.

With two layers of traffic, it has carried the weight of San Francisco’s rhythm since the 1930s—even before the much-photographed Golden Gate Bridge. Yet, it doesn’t seek attention. It simply delivers.

Its stature doesn’t come from fame, but from function. It serves, connects, and holds up the flow of a city that never slows down.

The Bay Bridge is one to be absorbed—not just by the eye, but by all it represents beyond what is seen.

The Romance of Clouds and Peaks: A Lesson in Perspective

Mountains don’t just stand—they stretch. They invite, they teach, they expand your sense of what’s possible.

When the clouds kiss the peaks, and the ground beneath hums with quiet excitement, your eyes drift—not just to the heights, but to the horizon.

And there, beyond the first set of peaks, another set awaits—wrapped in their own clouded embrace, whispering the same story.

You smile. You understand expanse. Not just of the mountains, but of perspective, possibility, and wonder.

Because some lessons can’t be taught. Only experienced.

The Chase for the Sky: Reflections in Glass and Ambition

The searing rush to the top—mirrored perfectly by the dark glass façade that reflects everything but reveals nothing.

Standing on the street below, neck craned, you can’t help but admit—it’s beautiful. Not in a warm, familiar way, but in a way that speaks of ambition, precision, and power.

The light dances, the shadows shift, and the building transforms with every passing cloud.

The interplay of light and dark always has this effect. It hides, reveals, and reminds—that beauty isn’t just in what you see, but in what you perceive.

Born to Run: The Effortless Beauty of a True Runner

A runner stands apart. You don’t need to look twice. The lean muscles, the poised stance, the effortless readiness—it’s all there, waiting for the next burst of speed.

And when the open space calls, they don’t just run. They glide.

Watching a greyhound take off is pure joy. The stretch, the arc, the rhythm—it’s movement at its most natural, most beautiful.

And when the sun begins to set, framing the runner in gold, it’s more than just a sight. It’s a moment.

More Than Monuments: Washington DC’s Metro and Movement

A city is more than just its buildings and roads. It’s the character of its infrastructure and the twinkle in the eyes of those who move through it.

Washington DC stands tall. A city of power, history, and movement. But beyond the monuments and politics, it has something else—a metro that works.

At Dupont Circle Station, the sleek tunnels and quiet efficiency tell their own story. A system that keeps the city moving, connects the stories, and makes the everyday a little smoother.

Sometimes, a city’s soul isn’t just in what it stands for—but in how it moves.

Standing Under Another Flag: What Changes, What Doesn’t

The stories we tell ourselves—about who we are, about others, about the world—can feel absolute. Until we stand in another land, under another flag.

Perspective shifts. Assumptions blur. Differences exist, but so do unexpected similarities.

And then, a simple truth emerges—the skies of the world are all blue. Borders may divide, but above us, the sky has no lines.

Sometimes, all it takes to rethink the stories we hold is standing somewhere new.

The Road to Vegas & The Road Back

It was evening.

The road from San Francisco to Las Vegas stretched endlessly—a ride that felt like it had started in another lifetime. Smooth, uneventful, devoid of the delightful chaos of an Indian highway.

No bulls appearing out of nowhere, no tractors playing chicken—just long, sweeping roads with scenery that tried its best to keep things interesting.

But ahead lay Las Vegas—a city of stories, possibilities, and whispered legends. Excitement pulsed through us, and for a moment, even the car engine seemed to hum in anticipation.

And then, I saw them—the cars leaving Vegas, heading home. Their passengers, wrapped in a quiet emptiness, faces drained of whatever the night had held.

That’s when a line from English, August floated back into my mind:

“The ecstasy of the arrival never compensates for the emptiness of the departure.”

I smiled. Because some truths, like the Vegas skyline, glow even in the dark.

(at Las Vegas, Nevada)