Santa Anas blow dust from the desert over the mountains, hazing the sky brown; on a clear day, dust devils swirl down F St. behind buses and cars. The curved Bay Bridge shimmer like a ring on the finger of the harbor and in the distance, a tugboat guides a naval destroyer out to sea. Across the bridge, vacationers and college students dot the white beaches of Coronado, swimming and tanning. The 5 slashes the city in half like a grey scar. At the border, the freeway widens like a dammed river and the cars glitter in the sun; further south, Mexico is a realm of dust and rock. North of the city, curved roads wind through thick trees up steep hills and massive...
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