“And out of the bronze of the image of The Sorrow That Endureth Forever he fashioned an image of The Pleasure That Abideth For a Moment.”

- The Artist by Oscar Wilde

Fog rolls, thick and damp, through the narrow, steep streets of San Lisandro. A city that truly began to flourish with the gold rush, giving birth to industrial revolution the likes of which the west coast had never seen. Its ports are still full of cargo, its wealthy districts remain full of powerful, respected people; but the city has developed its own personality over the last 150 years of growth. It is known the world over as a place of freedom, love, and acceptance.

Xander laughs bitterly to himself as he looks out his window at a happy couple out for an early morning walk, smiling into each other’s faces and laughing. 

Two men walking without shame, hand in hand, through the streets. This city loves and accepts all, so how ironic that i should be forced to see it as the ultimate prison… to associate it with such hatred.

He sighs and looks away. Pulling out his sketchbook, he begins to pull up an image in his mind of the place he visited in the summers with his father before he left the country for work. Closing his eyes, he imagines the steady crashing of the waves on the shore and the roaring melody of the wind. His eyes open once more as his pencil makes contact with the paper, forming the rough lines of the cliffs as he begins to dream.