I'm not sure how I got there. At some point I awoke and found myself upon an outcropping of stone, worn smooth-worn smooth by the feet of others who had gone before me-on that piece of stone above an undulating sea of history.The waves of time swept back and forth below me calling to me to dip a toe, a finger into their waves. And if I did? What stories would I draw forth.?That's what this place was. A place of telling. A place that held all the secrets. And all I had to do was reach down and draw them to me. Did I have the strength? Did I have the will to immerse myself in those tides?I had been brought here for a reason. And so willing myself forward into the spray of history's crushing waves I leapt knowing full well that I risked oblivion.Some stories are worth telling. No matter the cost. And so I fell into the loving embrace of the telling.