Roy's Postcards: 1987/11/02
I am having a good time in San Francisco. I love you, but I will see you soon. Be a good girl.
A FOGGY DAY in San Francisco. Like fingers reaching through the fog the towers of The City's skyscrapers gleam in the sun.
"I love you, but I will see you soon" sounds like something from a Groucho Marx love letter to Margaret Dumont. And "Like fingers reaching through the fog..." is the first sentence of a fantasy novel.
See also: susanna sf missing-front
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