On Friday, May 7 at 12 p.m., I stood at the intersection of Van Ness and Market with a pen, notepad, and die in hand. The pen and notepad were used to capture discernable language overheard, while the die served to dictate the initial direction of my walking as well as the decision made at each new intersection. The following is a transcription of one-hour of that journey—eventually the die led me to the ocean—or an attempt to quilt together found language from San Francisco’s streets. Read more »