DAVID JONES
I read once that San Francisco is where you go when it all goes wrong. And sure enough, I came here in the spring of 2018 from New York City, exhausted and broke, having just finished a doctoral dissertation that no one bothered to read. I had 27 boxes of books, a Royal Enfield motorcycle, and a firm determination to make this city my home.
Now, eight years later, San Francisco has given me everything: lifelong friends, warm neighbors, and the option to cross the street whenever I need a change of weather. I’ve fallen in love with the beauty and history of this place, and my heart is now firmly rooted on Telegraph Hill.
These days I live on the east side of the hill with my partner Tricia and our cats Francis and Ruby. On most weekends, you’ll find me in the Vallejo Steps garden, planting verbena and sea thrift or pruning roses alongside the kindest neighbors in the world. When the wind is right, you’ll find Tricia out on the Bay racing our sailboat, Josephine, and usually winning.
