Your journey passes through San Francisco. You end up in a somewhat outdated hotel, not very busy, not to say deserted. Tomorrow there will be a concert at the Black Cat, but for now, and for all entertainment, only the landlady and her cat Romy parade at the entrance of the establishment. Alas, at the end of the corridor leading to your room, an upright piano sits in the dusty living room. It is cool outside, but the icy wind rushing through the mullioned window makes you realize that the sea is just a stone's throw away. With its four felted paws, Romy only needed one leap to hoist herself up to the ledge. The chords slide across the keyboard. She thinks about life and the joy of living here, on Dolores Street.more