Maybe you never really know a place the first time you’re there. You’re walking around in the dark, hands outstretched, hoping you don’t fall down. You feel the turns, the sharp corners, the safe places.
So next time — if you’re lucky enough that there is a next time — you see things a little more clearly. Nothing is ever entirely clear; we can only ever see the parts that we see through the lens that we see them. But sometimes some things can get clearer.
I’m sitting on a deck in Malibu, overlooking the pacific ocean. All I can see are waves and sand and rocks and sand pipers and pelicans diving into the water.
I’ve been here before.
What will I do with my life this time?