From Kerry Park, you can witness a magnificent view of Seattle.

The first time I went, I put on Nurture by Porter Robinson. I felt a deep catharsis swell within me: the loneliness of staying in a city where I knew no one, the fear of a future already rattled by circumstances unforeseen, the satisfaction of the freedom to explore and change.

I went again, during my week in Seattle. The second time I bought a pack of sparkling water. I was feeling social, or quirky, and had this admittedly unusual fantasy of offering a drink to a stranger over an inspiring landscape.

The second time I did not feel anything so poignant. In Japanese, you might say 一期一会, “one time, one meeting.” The same circumstances do not create the same experience, even with the same place, same time of day, same music, even if by chance the same people had returned to Kerry Park, the catharsis evaded me.

On that hill, I could not find the boldness to offer a stranger a can of sparkling water. However, on the bus ride back, a homeless person asked for a can, and I gratefully offered them one.