I had a circuit. It started at my apartment in Brisbane, up the hill from the one main street in town, and wound down onto Bayshore. I followed that south to Sister Cities, in South San Francisco, where the road turned west. Sister Cities was all hill and dried grass for a ways but it eventually turned into more suburb and soon enough I was surrounded. I kept on it until the Hillside transition and on into Colma—city of the dead. It was actually quite scenic. There was a cemetery for all manner of dead person. The pet cemetery was nicer than some. This was the loneliest of places save for the odd shopping center. I kept on with Hillside until my arrival in Daly City where I sometimes broke circuit. West, I’d find the 280 and as dark a road as I could hope for, or the perennial long route south along El Camino. This was good for necessities. North, on Hillside or El Camino, would take me to the city. I sometimes did this, following the Mission trail into the heart of San Francisco. There were few people around at night at certain places. When I was hankering for a quiet beer I’d go to Irish Bank in Chinatown. When I didn’t break circuit, I turned east on Guadalupe highway. This route cut into the mountain and was a lot of grass and trees until it broke out back onto Bayshore. On a good night, or rather just a night that wasn’t foggy, I could make out Cow Palace and the lights beyond. Sometimes I’d break circuit here to go up to the 7 Mile bar and listen to music in a dank corner. When I didn’t, I’d turn south on Bayshore and pass all the industrial and office buildings to return home, grab a fruit or berries on the path up to my place on the hill, leave the curtains open to let in the maybe moonlight, and go back to bed.