Recent photography captures of the Pyramid, shot from North Beach with light beaming through its distinctive apex, are a reminder that this city's architectural crown jewel doesn't need a corporate rebrand or a $200 million renovation to stay relevant. It just needs to exist. Built in 1972 for roughly $32 million (about $235 million adjusted for inflation), the Pyramid has delivered over five decades of iconic skyline presence without a single ballot measure, oversight committee, or emergency supplemental appropriation.

Compare that to, well, almost anything the city has built or maintained since. We can't fill potholes on time, but William Pereira's 48-story monument to ambition keeps catching the golden hour light like it was designed for Instagram half a century before the app existed.

What strikes you about these shots — beams of light cascading from above, the building framed perfectly against the North Beach streetscape — is how the Pyramid anchors a neighborhood without overwhelming it. It's a building that understood the assignment: be distinctive, be functional, get out of the way. City Hall could learn something.

As one SF resident put it when reflecting on navigating the city, "Always be moving" is great advice. That applies to appreciating what's around you, too. San Francisco has a habit of obsessing over what's broken (and there's plenty) while walking right past what's extraordinary.

So next time you're cutting through North Beach, maybe heading to grab a malt at St. Francis Fountain — which, yes, still has them — look up. The Pyramid's still there, still beautiful, and it didn't cost taxpayers a dime to stay that way. Sometimes the best thing government can do for a landmark is absolutely nothing at all.