Why bother with words when the photos tell the story? Even when the fog drifts over Golden Gate Park, extinguishing our summer heat, it is a strange and wonderful place to visit.
The tourist stops have not lost their appeal, even though I've been visiting them for 36 years now. The Japanese Tea Garden is staffed by Chinese girls, who wear the kimono incorrectly, and babble in Cantonese as they serve Japanese tea and crackers.
The Park can bring out the story within you. It's a place for fantasy. Dylan was so moved by the pond near the Asian Art Museum that he walked around it several times, and in a remarkable monologue, constructed an entire fantasy world, where civilizations rose atop lily pads, and fish were submarines. He was so deep into his tale that he didn't notice the smiles on the faces of passing adults who came within earshot of this little curly haired story teller.
Every weed and rock had its place in this imaginary world. He wove each element in as he encountered it, seamlessly, without pausing for even a moment.
It was as if the story came tumbling out of him in spontaneous living form. All that I, his main audience, could do, was to listen, awestruck.
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