California.

She told us about Bolinas, that we might find Bob Dylan sitting at the bar. We followed the windy roads up and down Highway 1. Mineral baths and gold mines. Geodesic homes and David Bowie on the radio. The air was lighter that it had ever been. How things started to make sense in the moment. Vacancy... no vacancy the neon lights burn in my mind. How the redwoods smell like gin and tonic. Riding a horse named Eleanor through the wine country. Having dinner with strangers who build robots and teach yoga. Waking up to the sun and Tom Petty. Petrified trees and Robert Louis Stevenson. That one place where the sparrows cross. Hearing the crash of the Pacific against the coast. I filled my pockets with tiny shells. Crossing the Golden Gate Bridge for the first time and feeling so small. The fog wrapped us in its path. Modigliani and Picasso cover the walls and down the hall their neighbors are speaking about what life was like in the 1970s. I see their faces but I can't hear their words. We sit and watch sail boats on the blue waters of Sausalito. Next thing we are watching the clouds.