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-
No comments:
Post a Comment