The city had no soul. I stood in the window of Red Giant Collective, watching the twinkling lights of San Francisco glitter in the hills. It was impossible not to compare it to the wild, hot-blooded forest. The city had its own skin and bones and there was something about it that felt alive, but the mystical hum that lived in Six Rivers was an animal that couldn’t survive here. Not even the hungry waves of the Pacific could find a home in the bay.
