Just past the gritty part where the exhausted migrant workers gather to drink away the pain of another 14 hour day in the field in the hopes that they might fall yet again into grateful, dreamless sleep, right before the PCH trails down to the water is this; Old Town Ventura. Creamy strands of tiny, twinkling LED lights seem tethered to every door sill and post. Home-made stars. A collective signal sent haphazardly out to the ether that dark pools of love be here. Roll down your windows and drive slow, the lovers can't see you and the people making the best memories of their lives don't care. It's a California town that is almost a was. It's just starting to clean up the ragged, wild parts- but you can still taste it when you inhale. It will tug on your hair and tell you to pull over.
I know you want to get in your car right now and go there. But please, don't. Stay exactly where you are, because right now-at this very moment- that place is sparkling and I think we should all agree to let it balance there (on the lip of perfection...) for just a while longer before we swarm it as The Next Big Thing and start throwing box stores at it.