I trotted down the gravel path, and scurried up the steep slope of the weathered down boulders, gracefully finding every foothold, jumping every so feet, and ducking under every towering bush trying to high-five me. I finally reached the top of my most favorite spot in the world, a peaceful boulder pile that's out a couple of acres from my best friend's house. Gazing down in front of me, I could see in the middle of the valley a snaking, muted freeway and a web of lights. I turned around to find the largest boulder charred black and another boulder topping it, standing precariously on one point like a ballerina frozen in mid-step. Scrabbling