My heart lifted with the rise of each foot into Golden Gate Park at dusk. The full moon peeked through the cityscape as if God shined a light onto my empty page; but I moved to sit under the spotlight of a streetlamp and began to write. At the edge of the park, between grass and concrete, the pen teetered like a metronome from the Painted Ladies to Ocean Beach – beating with the heart of the city.

There is something unique and god-like about placing one letter after another until a...