I'm fixated on a two-block section of San Francisco's Chinatown where, on Saturday mornings, throngs of shoppers crawl between merchants and their vendors' delivery trucks. Produce, fish, pork, live poultry, and everything else. In some cases, the shoppers are pulling produce out of boxes before it's even been put out. The merchants get upset, but put on a good face through it all.

There's a real vibe in that little stretch. Walk another block and the street gets quiet; your mind lingering like you just left a party right at the really good part.

I haven't yet had the sense to actually document the street names, but I know how to get there each week, and for now that's enough.

Today I got too close and was accidentally bumped on the back by a vendor carrying what turned out to be a large, clear plastic bag containing pig organs. I was not pleased, but I suppose I got what I deserved.