Berkeley is a microcosm of New York City, in my opinion. Each block is a world unto itself, wrapped in it’s own beliefs and ignorant of what is happening beyonds its own sidewalk borders.
Only the homeless cross the unseen lines that separate the city from itself, refugees in their own country. Yet their is a love and unselfishness that floats in the pungent air.
The more I see this country being ripped apart by politics and hatred, I find redemption and solace in a place such as Berkeley.
An island in a sea of garbage filled with zombies that walk crooked lines and spew garbled nonsense.