My route strokes along the side of the Pacific along the sides of Sunset Cliffs. Every time there’s a different texture to the trip: marine layer fuzzing the horizon, Santa Ana’s making the air knife sharp, the sweep of clouds catching the light silver or flame, and the blue—so many hues. Beauty’s true color is blue.
The flame opens its maw, engulfing the tree, swallowing it bottom to top, licking at the night sky now roaring.
1. Just after rain against a washed-clean sky, a cloud mountain bloomed luminescent behind the Point. It feels exactly like …
I spend much of my life hustling through tasks until the day when my real life magically starts. But in September, I decided that this is my real life and I need to actually live it. To put practices in place that feed who I am.