My first memory was literally burned into me as I fell against the gas heater in Mom and Dad's apartment at 1715 Golden Gate avenue when I was a little over a year old, raising a welt on my left wrist. The scar stayed with me until I was twenty, having crawled a third of the way up my forearm by then as my skin stretched to accommodate the growing body underneath. I think that was also the day my mother had a... Continue reading "My Very Early Days in San Francisco"