During my “missing years” or the “healing ramble” or whatever, there was sort of a circuit of safe houses, hideouts and caches i rotated through which included Pacifica, California.
A couple dear friends there looked out for me as I received of medical treatment there – some planned and some ummmm unintended.
As it goes, while looking for something else, I kept coming across mah ole face on four separate visits and right away could see the change as dealt with so much well, change and loss… “Losing everything” / my health, my erstwhile career, my energy, my mind, myself, my parents, and so much more.
The pier would be usually occupied by a scattered assortment of fishers and crab catchers, and others like me, just watching the waves rolling, fog twitching, the occasional hearty surfer, and every once in a while a humpback whale.
As usual, there’s more to say about “all of this” (yes, there’s a pending medical – specific report in the slow moving “healing ramble” series) but for now, I present to you: me & Pacifica pier which was a safe refuge for me as could walk back-and-forth – at the foot is a coffee shop serving clam chowder in a bread bowl and a Matcha latte, the street has so many cute little funky beach ‘shacks’ (any of them cost in million+ now) that, due to zoning regulations & shoreline protection mandates, couldn’t really be changed… so the area of town was sort of stuck in a past decade and showed it’s working class roots and rum running/bootlegging history.
Minor annotations included with the photos. Remarkable to me anyhow & a reminder of what “we” are capable of, I mean if I am able to tough it out, evolve and change with it all, you certainly can.
I Hell<3 Pacifica. Grateful.