It's rare that I can get an even semi-decent Polaroid picture of the girl indoors, in action, anymore. The light is just too low and the film too old. But somehow I lucked into this one--mostly due to milky spring sunlight streaming all Vermeer-like in the window to my left / Mabel's right. And there she is, caught mid-toy-box-riffle. I've long maintained that if you love San Francisco it loves you back, and I think I might need to extend that to California--its magical light being one of the ways the place shows you its love.