Tomorrow evening I fly first to Los Angeles, then to Sydney, Australia, and finally to Denpasar, Bali. I’ll be there about a week, then another half week in Sydney before I fly back to Frisco. Don’t expect to see me writing here, but I’ll be wandering through rice fields, walking up volcanoes, diving off the Amed coast and writing in each spare moment. Aku cinta kamu.
This path you walk down—
You: the proprietor of limitless wonder,
Blind of ambition, interest unbound—
Seeks always to tear curiosity asunder.
If you walk up the back property and follow the wire fence until it ends, there’s a copse of trees in a shallow depression where the stream runs through it. Keep the stone wall on your left and it’ll curve right and you’ll run straight into it. The wall is built in the English style, a row of stones like dominos sitting atop it. The hills around there carve out a pillowed landscape and these trees are some of the only ones visible for miles.
A handful of those close to me know well my obstinance as it pertains to illness. I am continually firm in my conviction that I will not get sick. It’s not that I never get sick — because I occasionally do — but I get sick very rarely. And my secret? I am stubborn to the point of absurdity in the belief that I just will not get sick.
For years I’ve kept a log of “small world” occurrences. These are the events you witness that seem unlikely to the point of absurdity. Connections between disparate people in your life, one-in-a-million-trillion chance circumstances. I started this list after the following occurrence.