He Came To This Country

I Believe In Such Cartography – To Be Marked By Nature, Not Just Label Ourselves On A Map Like The Names Of Rich Men And Women On Buildings. We Are Communal Histories, Communal Books. ... All I Desired Was To Walk Upon Such An Earth That Had No Maps.

…even The Idea Of A City Never Entered His Mind. It Was As If He Had Walked Under The Millimeter Of Haze Just Above The Inked Fibers Of A Map, That Pure Zone Between Land And Chart, Between Distances And Legends, Between Nature And Storyteller. The Place They Had Chosen To Come To, To Be Their Best Selves, To Be Unconscious Of Ancestry. Here, Apart From The Sun Compass And The Odometer Mileage, And The Book, He Was Alone, His Own Invention. He Knew During These Times How The Mirage Worked, The Fata Morgana, For He Was Within It.

Right Now, I Have No Idea What I Will Write Or If I Will Write Again.

I Thought I Was Being Loved Because I Was Being Altered.

He Has Been Disassembled By Her. And If She Has Brought Him To This, What Has He Brought Her To?