Tuesday night date-night at Starbelly in the Castro. As we drive down Market, we spot him. He's passing the gas-station on the corner of 17th: the Naked Man, in the prime of his late 60's, bearing it all, hanging out, just chillin' and taking a stroll.
This man is not part of the jock-straps lounging outside Starbucks on Castro and 18th, nor is he a left over from a Burning Man long time ago, he just looks like a sad man who lost his clothes, his head hanging slightly as if bummed out, having to make his way home without his wallet, but still trying to put on a brave face.
When I tell my babysitter about it later she says she sees him quite often in the Castro.
- He usually covers his thing with a fig leaf.
Well, I guess it was particularly warm that night, with the heatwave and all.
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