It's warm and sunny in the City. Rare for Summer.
On the San Francisco Art Institute's Chestnut street campus atop Russian Hill I search out a Graphic Artist. Once inside the main doors I admire the Spanish tiled fountain. Once inside the halls my footsteps echo in the cathedral like silence. Wait, why is it so quite?
Because...it's...Summer! That's how old I am. That's how long I've been out of school. I went out in search of an Art student to collaborate on a project in the middle of June. How embarrassing.
So I meet some of the few San Francisco Art Institute students that linger in the halls. They are chill, down to Earth, and helpful. After he observes me posting fliers a student (I think he's a student) approaches me and asks if he can have one. He explains that his friend might be interested. He is not at all like the pretentious characters in my book. They are fictional.
As I'm hanging fliers throughout the halls I develop a nagging feeling that my novel may not be well received. Lavaliere Fatale might be considered derogatory. A rude representation of SFAI students. Again, I must emphasize my characters are fictional. They're from my story world. A San Francisco Art Institute that exists on a different dimension in a parallel universe. You can't get mad at fiction!
A helpful photographer took a picture of me by the fountain.