good bad ideas
Notes: For the first couple days, I use my suitcase like a dresser. The clothes are clean enough for my purposes, and I’m in no rush to let anyone know I’m back. The bed beckons and offers reprieve from everything that needs to be done. In San Francisco they sleep in apartments bursting at the seams. Hundreds of people share a floor. They carve out a space on the couch or, if they’re lucky, convince a girl to share the closet she’s artfully transformed into a bedroom. They wake up with the first person who needs to leave for work and brush their teeth while the laughter and high-pitched squeals of small children in the park next door float in through the bathroom window.