I admit I went because he said in the movie that it was a place with no memory. I needed it at that moment, a month and change after the death of my father. I had no idea what I would do in the small fishing village called Potosi outside of Zihua, but it held me close over that time, and as the warmth of the morning moved into the deep heat of the midday sun, the last visions in my brain before going to siesta was of the pelicans, gliding over the water. My skin was glowing from the promise of heat and soon my feet would burn if I continued, but I couldn't help but follow them, if for just a short time. The blues were unimaginable, as if walking into a tropical Maxfield Parrish., and the sea was so full that when you swam, they bumped into your legs, and the shells and other remnants washed up on shore each morning. I did things I never could have previously imagined, becoming more brave and falling into long conversations with other travelers and yet never once feeling afraid or alone, just in that deep need to heal and be one with a place that had no memory.
'get busy living or get busy dying'