'Looking,' Marriage, And The New Gay Sadness

03/23/2015 11:42 am ET | Updated Feb 02, 2016
Chelsea Lauren via Getty Images

The last wild part of San Francisco is the Pacific, which bounds the city for five miles at its western edge, abutting Ocean Beach and the gridiron of the Sunset’s pink-green bungalows. All of this is always, as San Francisco mostly isn’t, beset by fog: white, eerie, gracious. They can raise the rents but they can’t dispel the fog. Nor the campfires plugged into the cruising grounds of the dunes—illegal, burning every night.

Read more on New Yorker

Suggest a correction