We hope she makes it. We also hope nobody tells her about the rent.

There's something bittersweet about seeing San Francisco through the eyes of someone who hasn't yet experienced the daily friction of actually living here — the bureaucratic absurdities, the policies that punish residents for problems the city created, the jaw-dropping cost of merely existing within the seven-by-seven.

Case in point: while Servantez is lovingly rendering our skyline in charcoal, actual San Franciscans are dealing with a city government that fines businesses for graffiti on infrastructure the city itself installed. As one local put it: "Peak SF. Can't control crime and vandalism, penalize law-abiding citizens and businesses for the city's own incompetence." Another resident noted that the city's graffiti abatement crew might be "the only city employees that work."

That's the duality of this place. San Francisco is genuinely, magnetically beautiful. The fog rolling over Twin Peaks, the light hitting the Transamerica Pyramid at dusk, the way the city stacks itself up impossible hills — it's the kind of place that inspires charcoal drawings from people hundreds of miles away. The beauty is real. The dysfunction is also real.

Servantez's piece is a reminder of what San Francisco means to people — and why it's so frustrating when city leadership fails to protect the thing that makes people fall in love with it in the first place. You can have world-class beauty and world-class mismanagement simultaneously. We've proven that.

So welcome, Isabel, whenever you get here. Bring your charcoal. You'll have no shortage of material — beautiful and otherwise.