2019 is riddled with an obscene amount of unseasonal rain on the West Coast. It's an intense notion to be alive this far in the future, in Trump's America.
I feel the backbone of nostalgia, here in my Oceanside living quarters. I've weathered the storms of San Francisco, and now seek unsettled terrain back in SD. I write here and now to recall the feelings on content that the sound of raindfall bring.
I can remember the Fall of 2015 and Winter of 2016, the amount of rain we had in San Francisco. I often felt a ghost to the environment, and it's really the same now in San Diego. It's true - you can never really go home.
There's certainly fresher air, and we know the air will bring around a resounding victory.
