When I was living in Australia, I once took a drive with a friend down the Grand Pacific Drive. Our destination was the journey itself and an oceanside pub, a wide stretch of grass wedged between the winding road and the Pacific.
As we sat with our beers at a picnic table in the sunshine, conversation ceased as we watched the lull of the waves against the rocks. It was a comfortable sort of silence, one of those peaces that you can’t take for granted with just anyone.
“Someone once told me that being out here like this, it’s emptying your wastebasket,” he told me. “You have to take the time to clear out all the stuff that builds up in your everyday life.”
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