Saturday, September 05, 2009

Summer's End

























China Camp


Alone on a small beach here today, the only sounds were small waves lapping at the shore, a breeze in the trees, and sea gulls. The same sounds of 130 years ago in this remote corner of San Francisco Bay.

The crumbling buildings still here are a ghost-town. Way back then, only Chinese was spoken here. You can close your eyes and see it all -- the junks, the nets, the shells.

The kids and I like to come here at the change of seasons. To imagine the past, and also the future.

-30-

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