The sharp, cold air hit me last night, in the rose garden, super late, just watching the sky as the rain fell on me. It was lovely.
Just listening to music, watching the sky and sort of in awe at the myriad paths the universe has to offer. One tiny, slight wrinkle back in Los Angeles and all this never would have happened. If that angry man hadn't thrown his empty beer bottle from his third-story window in downtown L.A. one year ago, I probably never would have moved to Cusco, Peru -- 11,200 feet high in the Andes mountains.
I would still be working in a dimly lit office 60-70 hours a week, worrying about how long I was taking for lunch, living in a fancy loft that exceeded a proper budget and that I didn't need, existing in the nicest jail cell anyone has ever seen.
But a jail cell nonetheless.