A Proust moment.

July 28, Daly City, California.

The circus is a BART's hop away from San Francisco, and Mom, Fred, Dylan, Fridman when he can and I are taking full advantage of it.
coming back from the city tonight there was Richard, a circus fan who lives nearby in the Bay Area and is known for organizing parties for circus people every opportunity he can, and so there was a party. No can do because of the baby, but word goes it involved dancing and squares, and food galore.
It is almost cold here, there was a blinding fog the night we arrived which came back tonight, erasing everything in its white shroud, annihilating the city around us, the circus tent rising on the hill like a lost ship, floating, a vision.
We are on top of a steep hill, on the grounds of Westmoor High School, in what appears to be a predominantly Asian neighborhood from the look of the shopping center a block away and people on the street. Mom and I took Dylan along to order some dinner to go earlier tonight and shopping at the market in the small indoor shopping mall the smell of the place transported me back to Hong Kong, China, where I lived and worked for a while. The power of smells, like that of taste, to conjure up worlds long forgotten, no use trying to compete with Monsieur Proust.