is the one-word answer for why I love walking. On every walk no matter the time nor the place, I encounter the unlikely but believable. To celebrate a living detail is good life. Akin to sharing a meal or finding words (or having them find you) which inspire. Gratitude is naming the unlikely as believable.
One discovery was the way the desert tore up old notions of heat. Nothing could soothe the chlorine drips on warm towels and hot tiles. Trying to talk was useless. Better to pretend to read and fall asleep on the expensive chaises at our disposal. Night would come soon enough, and the blessings of ice cubes. Oh my, how we could never move there, we said. And yet, here we are, wondering where the winter went, wondering if it will return, wondering as we look at the azure distance and try to recall what it was we saw on that first walk through the park, circling a still pond and a faint whisper in the eucalyptus air.
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