 Hello. Thank you for coming. Thank you, Dottie and Jack. Thank you, Maria and the other musicians. I brought you three little cityscapes today. Two of them were written for North Beach, the sort of the poetic heart of our city and the final one was written for you. Sex cells. Come to North Beach and purchase some sex. It's a buyer's market. First, walk up Broadway and ogle the girls. They look so sweet. See your sexy sisters in skimpy clothes smiling in the chill. See their boyfriends with icy hearts. They look so cold. Sex cells. Then go in some place and peruse the goods. They appear real. Take a seat at the bar and buy a small drink. It seems a little weak. Take a peek at the men in this gentleman's club. They look so happy. Sex cells. Yes, come to North Beach for an erotic thrill. It's adult entertainment. Stay for the show and boost your libido. It's an exotic experience. Stay after midnight and spend every cent. You'll have a terrific time because sex cells. Being in North Beach. As you walk up Broadway in the mild late afternoon air, a good-looking young man with fine features and curly hair may speak to you. He will probably say, Buona Sera. If you say Buona Sera, he will favor you with a radiant smile. Then he will invite you in English to enter the restaurant in whose doorway he is standing. If you go inside, he will hand you over to some equally breathtakingly charming and good-looking person. This person will probably also say Buona Sera. Give you a menu and suggest you have a glass of wine. If you have a glass of wine, it will surely cause your mood to lighten and you will read the menu with pleasure. You'll order a specialty of the house and eat it under the watchful eye of a third charming, good-looking person. The food will be great. But when the bill arrives, you won't believe how much you've just spent on a plate of spaghetti and a glass of wine. A city is the people. It's not about the tall buildings with the opaque windows reflecting other tall buildings. It's not about the stadiums full of overpriced seats or the auditoriums for the culturally elite. And it's certainly not about the restaurants that go in and out of fashion. A city is the people. Who washes the windows in the tall buildings? Who puts on the shows in the auditoriums? Who makes the food in the fancy restaurants? A city is the people. When the cracked and worn-out streets are littered with the detrius of commerce. When the old neighborhoods are emptied of every kind of artist. When the beleaguered working class have to leave their family homes to make a living. Who will do the work? Who will paint the murals on empty walls? Who will write poems giving voice to our desires? Who will teach the children how to dance? Who will deliver hope to the needy? Don't let them fool you. Don't let them isolate you. Don't let them make you believe you're not worthy. You are the city. It is your place, your home. The city is you. You are the people. A city is the people.