emerald kingdom Now that I am finally ready to leave here, I am willing to believe that at this moment in history, this city is the most perfect on earth. Blessed with unheard-of prosperity for most of the past decade, we have used our resources intelligently and have come closer than ever to achieving a civic utopia, progressive and confident, a showplace for the kind of open society we all cherish. San Francisco provides. The dream of the Emerald Kingdom that attracted me when I first came here twenty years ago at this same time of year, still exists. Stretched below me in late February are the rich green terraces of Dolores Park, forming an open basin that faces the Bay Bridge. Scattered palms give way to the pastel earth tones of SoMa and the Inner Mission, which are like surf washing against the mighty edifices of downtown. There are drummers, children playing, punks having a picnic, all the usual props of a diverse city. I just came strolling here from the upper hills, where I took part in the timeless ritual of burning hemp in dedication to the warming rays of the sun. Surrounding me as I walked were hanging gardens of perfumed plants. I couldn't help feeling how easily this could all be swept away, turned to ash, our proud accomplishments revealed as vanity once the looting hordes are gone and there is nothing left but ruins. Yet I feel this city is timeless: it wants to be here and will return time and again if anything happens to it. How can this place be anything other than a magnificent city?
	location: San Francisco date: February 2003 average rating: 8.50 (2 votes) your rating (0-10):