Peter in the Late Afternoon
Whenever I visited San Francisco, I would see Peter Berlin standing on a certain hilltop corner on Larkin Street. At the time Larkin was rife with runaway boys selling themselves.
Peter stood at the top of the hill, away from them, yet the atmosphere of sex for sale lingered. It didn’t seem he was cruising anyone. He just posed against a pole, as he is doing here, with eyes hooded by his cap visor, pointedly on display as a sort of erotic exotic work of art.
When the sun hit him a certain way, he turned golden.