The first day.

April 25, Ventura.

There is nothing like the first day.
Out to greet the ocean again this morning and the world was altogether different. Nobody was out. Under a threatening sky the ocean like a stone. The sudden thought that you can't hear the ocean for the constant background noise of the freeway, a few hundred yards back (there is hardly a place in southern California you can go to escape that noise; it used to drive me crazy living in Riverside.)
There is nothing like the first day in a new town with the circus, everything fresh, like an early morning. I've always liked to get up at the crack of dawn and feel like the world belongs to me, all the hours of the day still ahead. It is the same feeling on that first day, and it disappears just as quickly as the passing hours erase that morning promise. Life in the circus is an endless renewal, un éternel recommencement, and for the looming unknown of the upcoming trip upon leaving town there is always the promising eternity of the few days ahead upon arriving in a new place.