Tenderloin Tales The Runaway Child
Genesis It was a beautiful late September afternoon in San Francisco. The Powell Street cable car plaza was free of tourists. The street bands were still holding their usual spots, but their music was muted, relaxed, as if the musicians needed some catalyst from an audience to really come alive. I had left my office early, intending to go to the Golden Gate Street "Y" for a jazzercise work out. There are moments in our lives when the world disappears, the sun warms, sights and sounds fade,...