The last two weeks of November 2020 felt very, very tentative to me - like we were all in some sort of strange state of stasis. The election had been decided, but there was no acknowledgment from the president that he had lost. I was working a dream job for a company I really wanted to work for, but I realized it was far more challenging than I had anticipated. Many restaurants and small businesses throughout San Francisco had made progress to again become profitable, but as the pandemic rolled on, it became clear that many more simply would not be able to make it. The days went by with endless beautiful blue skies, which would normally be fine, except that our rainy season should have started, and 2020 had been a year with draught and terrible wildfires. By mid-November, we were also supposed to be enjoying fresh, local Dungeness crab, but the season was delayed because of the fear of Humpback whales off the California coast getting caught in fishing gear. Then there was Thanksgiving - which was celebrated in spirit, was without the physical company of loved ones. Most startling for me, as I walked around taking pictures, was how quiet the streets were during the week of Thanksgiving. With few people and cars on the streets, parts of the city take on a feeling almost like somewhere else, or from another time.