I keep being reminded that I’m not a prophet. That no matter how certain I am about what’s to come, I am almost always wrong. Something unexpectedly shifted in my life at the end of last year, which necessitated some quick improvisational thinking on my part. Without going into too much detail, I’ll just say that I had to leave Los Angeles until June. With next to no idea what I’d be doing or where I’d be going. But I had to leave town. Six months in exile stretched out before me.