Where Flyers Go To Die


The lightpoles of San Francisco are fair game for lost kittens, missing laptops, services for hire, and political action groups. I see posters and flyers stapled to these dead trees (that's what they are, folks) all the time. Even more interesting, though, are the poles that have been basically stripped of all advertising. The rusting staples form a patina of forgotten causes, furniture, and people.

I happened across this lone phone number today, dangling desperately from its thumbtack. Who is at the other end of that number? What were they selling? I'm so intrigued and have to fight the urge to call.


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