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which I had mindlessly Uber-ed to. As I got out of the car, I realized that wasn't the place I was supposed to be at. I had been dropped off at a (closed) bar called "the library," quite a walk away from the actual public library. I was in the heart of the Tenderloin & decided

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to walk the remaining mile that separated me from the actual meeting point. The streets were conspicuously empty of cars and pedestrian traffic for a weekday afternoon, but on the side walks, there were makeshift tents and belongings strewn around haphazardly. Characters roamed

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around, spouting unintelligible soliloquies. Mid-way down Jones Street, I heard a commotion and saw a person poking out of a blue tent. He was yelling "does anyone have Narcan? Narcan! Narcan, we need Narcan!" I had to google it. Before I could reply the cries turned into

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"will someone call 911," which I did. I'd just seen a man overdose and die right in front of me. Visibly shaken, I kept walking, texting Jenny about what had just happened and explaining why I was running even later. Whatever expression I was wearing on my face prompted a

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security guard standing outside a shuttered store on Market St. to stop me and ask, "hey, are you okay?" I forced a smile. I finally made it to the public library and gave Jenny and

@SoledadUrsua

a warm embrace. We went up to the higher floors and peered out of the window.

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Nothing could have prepared me for the scene of depravity. A homeless encampment with what looked like more permanent structures occupying the open space between government buildings, framed by the grandiose dome of City Hall.

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Mobile trailers plastered with the slogan "Showering Our Communities with Love" were on site. It gave me the creeps. This looked nothing like love. Next door at the UN Plaza was a scene right out of the Walking Dead. Zombies with their eyes glazed over, teetering as they

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lurched forward and then back; some brazenly, in broad daylight (~ 4pm) injected themselves, oblivious to everything. All of this, by the way, exists in FULL VIEW of the leaders who oversee and run this town. I thought of the Getty wedding that took place in City Hall not

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long ago, the one with ridiculous costumes and Nancy Pelosi officiating in the beautiful rotunda. The juxtaposition of that event to these displays of inhumanity and despair calls to mind The Hunger Games. None of this is normal anywhere else in the world.

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I have been to the favelas in Brazil, the townships in South Africa, and seen refugee camps. None of these experiences come anywhere close to the despondent state of the human condition that I witnessed on the streets of San Francisco that day. San Francisco. What a beautiful,

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naturally-endowed city buttressed by bays and hills, brimming with so much human potential, potential that was realized in so many ways as the wellspring of innovation that gave us a new world. And yet. After parting with my friends, I headed to the Singapore consulate

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to renew my passport. How lucky I was to be holding this little red & gold book. How lucky I was to have grown up in a place where not a single human soul is subjected to a life of chemical slavery and physical debasement that has been normalized in California.

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