A dried up waterfall at Joaquin Miller Park in Oakland.

A 30-something, slightly overweight woman clad in yoga pants, Adidas and an electric blue athletic pullover, as if she frequents an overpriced workout class, stares begrudgingly at the stairs before her. She waits, looking at those stairs, like they have done something personally to her. Finally, after what feels like 30 minutes, she lets out…

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