High above the Pacific in Big Sur, at the end of a winding road, a solitary coastal oak stands on the edge of a grassy ridge. From its branches hangs a simple swing suspended over one of the most breathtaking views along the coast.
I sat on that swing as the sun began to set. An inversion layer rolled in and quietly erased the entire coastline below, replacing it with a vast sea of fog. Above it all, soft pastel pinks and blues gently faded across the sky as daylight slipped away.
From that height it felt like the world had flipped. Only sky above and clouds below. A quiet, dreamlike moment suspended in time.