Take Me to the Place Where Time Goes to Die

San Francisco Bay as seen from Buena Vista Park, the oldest official park in San Francisco. Looks much different now. And it kind of doesn't. All at the same time. Go ahead and develop some of that green land the two bewhiskered men are appraising, and build an International Orange cable-suspension bridge connecting the two peninsulas, and it might not look so different. I can actually see where I live, north of there, once, you know, the whole industrial complex thing kicked in. Now the park, one of SF's most notorious hikes and hills, allows for some spectacular views of downtown San Francisco, the Golden Gate, and the surrounding bodies of water. And nowadays it also tends not to feature monochromatic renderings. It's funny to think: when black and white photography was all there was, I wonder if anyone ever thought that if and when color photography had been around for a while people would actively attempt to chalk up their photos into something like this. What a travesty that we can't access the thoughts of people in photographs from eras of yore; what a shame we can't listen to them think as they beheld the inchoate world; what a terrible affair that the only person we can ever come close to fully knowing and understanding--and barely even then--is ourselves, the body and the mind within which we're entombed. 

Attendant to the mood, naybe a little Former Ghosts? "Hold On" from their 2009 debut, which they'll be following up on soon.