Millions had fled the Bay Area after missiles hit Mountain View and Cupertino in ’57, but millions had stayed too. San Francisco’s population was a tenth of what it had been before the war, and those who remained were rebuilding with a desperate love. You could see it everywhere. People filled their violated spaces with sparkling textiles and murals that vibrated with color; they refurbished old machines with agonized tenderness, turning broken glass into shimmering gems to decorate their bicycles and game halls. It was, she supposed, a way of defying death. Necessities helped people survive,
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