2015 has been an interesting year. Journeys of the world and journeys of the heart. In the end, my passport wasn’t the only thing getting stamped (crushed is more apt a word).
Yes, I fell in love, and had my heart broken. It wasn’t the first time. Likely not the last, but it hurt. It hurts every time, intensely.
I’m reading currently Tom Petty’s biography. The Heartbreaker’s band leader himself described “heartbreak” as a paralyzing, physical, radiating of pain. I have to agree.
It could be Karma. I believe it’s a thing, I stole a kid’s bike when I was younger. And since, every bike I’ve ever owned has been stolen. That’s really my only evidence it exists.
Maybe I am paying my “Kismetic Debt” for the hearts that I’ve broke, myself. There are a couple souls I know I’ve wrenched.
At any rate, whenever my soul needs to be rebuilt, I seek comfort from South of the border. Where the desert slams into the sea, where you pay in sunburn, and dehydration, and isolation to witness some of the most soul stirring moments in your life…
That place is Baja.
Here are a few images from my latest “vision quest.”
Check Out William's Latest Book
There Ain’t No Pageantry in Cockfighting
A short novela recounting a surf trip to Baja turns South when the engine my '71 Volkswagon seized, leading me on an adventure down Baja 1000 roads, encounters with transvestite prostitutes, and drought ending weddings.
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