Tag Archives: I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

a soft breath of anonymity

To San Franciscans ‘the City That Knows How’ was the Bay, the fog, Sir Francis Drake Hotel, Top o’ the Mark, Chinatown, the Sunset District and so on and so forth and so white. To me, a thirteen-year-old Black girl, stalled by the South and Southern Black life style, the city was a state of beauty and a state of freedom. The fog wasn’t simply the steamy vapors off the bay caught and penned in by hills, but a soft breath of anonymity that shrouded and cushioned the bashful traveler.

Currently reading I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou, as part of my summer of exploring modern American literature with my little sister.

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