Over the years, I have realized that I love cities with movement. When there is no movement, there is no life. As I was walking around the city movement from people of all races, colors and sizes. I was not in a bad part of town, however, some of the people I saw would make me think otherwise. One older woman in particular, who was of Mexican decent and had a heavy build, was wearing a tight, red dress with matching high- heels. She had on way too much make-up, and her hair was falling in her face. I am not s

This city had everything from the curviest street in the country to one of the most well known bridges in America. There are many attractions in San Francisco that I do not think it is possible to visit all of them. When we pay a toll to cross a bridge, I do not think of it as money collected for the bridge’s upkeep. I consider it my admission price into such a wonderful city. To me this city is a vacation spot, my favorite vacation spot. The funny thing about it is that it is not far at all. I do not need to pack any clothes or food. I can just come and relax in a city that never sleeps. Every local person there was continuing a normal day. They are just living their lives like anyone else. Some people were better off than others and had more possessions than others, but nothing seemed to faze anyone. I heard someone on the street that night say how much he enjoyed the city and how much they would never want to leave. Right after he said that, the same person threw their paper cup on the street, got into their car, and drove off. I was appalled by this behavior and thought, “What is our world coming to?” I wondered what people thought about other cities or places they had been to and what a vacation was to them.

ure where she was going, but she was trying to get there in a hurry. She kept looking at her watch; I assumed she was late for an appointment or a party. She did not really fit in on the street; however, no one was paying her any attention. It seemed to me that even though she was dressed differently, she was still accepted in a strange way. As the woman ran out of my sight, I was drawn to a fair- skinned, younger man, with long, brown, braided hair that lay in the middle of his back. At first I did not notice the man’s hair because his outfit was enticing. I am not sure, but he certainly acted, if pink was his favorite color. As he stepped out of his bl

Some topics in this essay:
Mercedes Benz, San Francisco, , Christmas Day, san francisco, car drove, continued walk, vacation spot, sacramento looked, found strange, lights city, lit cigarette, city city, paying attention,