I was walking along the beach when I ran into a man in an orange prison jumpsuit. I was a little afraid since the shoreline was deserted except for us and a few seagulls.
Should I keep walking? Run like mad? Call 911?
You'd think living near Hollywood I'd know by now things often aren't what they seem. Turns out the "escaped convict" was an actor waiting for a camera crew.
Watching the actor, photographer and ocean move with each other was like turning the pages of a book. Storytellers - crafting lines with images instead of words.
In my mind the beach melted away and I was back in Haiti where I'd write sitting under the mango tree. This is where I finally got it: for some of us storytelling is a calling, not merely a job.
"The times when I got to uncover someone's story," said Kezia, "when I got to ask questions and discover something I would not have known had I not hunted for it, those are the things that moved me."
Watching the story being written on the shore stirred something in me. The calling. Yes, it's still there.
