“Give me a route from San Francisco Golden Gate to your favourite restaurant please (eom)”

“Are you in SF?”

“I’m not, I’m on the other side of the world.”

“Hmm OK. I know a spot.

If you start at the Golden Gate Bridge you would probably begin by heading southwest through the Presidio and walk along the cliff-edge trails, on the roof-tops of the old concrete bunkers we built up in World War II.
It’s usually quite windy up there, windy enough for you to have to nudge your foot stance and weight your body down at times. Your hair would whip around. Sometimes dust gets kicked up from underneath the tires of the cars in the parking lots. And of course, you know, there’s the view...

Big blue.
The bridge thing over there.
And, seagulls. Always seagulls. You might encounter eventually a 350 lb man who wears an orange t-shirt and a red beanie with a lil ball on top of it.

He sits at this one spot, this one ledge where you can’t see the bridge anymore, its just trees, and the Pacific out there. And he throws chunks of hot-dog up into the air, and feeds the crows. I say that you might actually encounter this man because I talked to him last time. I asked him how he was. He said “Oh, I’m just here feeding Nancy.” He named the crow. These were his crows. He said he kept them as pets for several years but she got restless and he let her go and she nested in a tree out over there. And has a partner now, and once a week he returns and she remembers him. Crows are smart. It was quite beautiful. It wasn’t windy that day actually. It was real quiet, quiet enough where you notice the sound of your own step. ”