The span is quiet. As I make my return south to the The City, I look up to see the tower fading into a bed of Pacific fog. The lights of Downtown, Telegraph Hill and the Wharf struggle to reach me through the thick night air. Crossing the bridge after sunset and beyond is a part of my job as a cab driver that I revel in and it always ends before I am ready. From the grandeur of the bridge I can witness all the beauty and character of The City without being confronted with what is broken and dying inside of her. I fell for San Francisco the first time I came aboard and it is these brief moments that remind me why I came here and why I stay…

photo and text by Christian Lewis