Good Days

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Some days give you nothing—No, it’s not the day’s fault—I’ll come back to that sometime, but there are days when you come home with nothing. And then there are days like the one in Big Sur. Intense contrasty light—normally the kiss of death—and I decided to play. I found a rock at ocean’s edge where big ones were rolling in and dramatically exploding, and I stayed. Dancing to stay safe, tasting the salt spray, and loving it. Truth be told, I wasn’t even thinking about good days and bad days. I was too alive.