It might make more sense to park near the beach and just walk up and down the water’s edge. Instead I park say on 26th, and walk 22 blocks to the ocean and 22 back. Why is that more appealing?

I don’t know. I do love the sight of the water beckoning in the distance. I like the surprise when I cross the street that is called The Great Highway, the surprise of the dunes covered with plants of varying shape and color, with their varied birds and butterflies. The surprise of the change in the air, from car and refuse smells to fresh salt-sea air. And there’s the surprise as I crest the dunes: The Ocean. Ta da!

Maybe one is more open after walking a distance, more receptive than if you go from sitting in a car immediately to the beach.

Maybe not. Maybe I just like people-watching as I walk through the Sunset District. The unfamiliar plants in unfamiliar gardens. I don’t know.

Yesterday at the ocean, a man was flying his remote-control bi-plane--wingspan maybe 3 feet, red with yellow propeller, and little white wheels like you might find on a play baby stroller. It was a seductive thing, its low-pitched purr, how it gently rode the currents of air back and forth back and forth.

The sun sparkled in a pool of light on the surface of the water. I took that in me, and it returned to me hours later, somehow a reminder that I have worth.