...[cabeza De Vaca] Ceased To Be Lost

How Will You Go About Finding That Thing The Nature Of Which Is Totally Unknown To You?

Perhaps It’s That You Can’t Go Back In Time, But You Can Return To The Scenes Of A Love, Of A Crime, Of Happiness, And Of A Fatal Decision; The Places Are What Remain, Are What You Can Possess, Are What Is Immortal. They Become The Tangible Landscape Of Memory, The Places That Made You, And In Some Way You Too Become Them. They Are What You Can Possess And In The End What Possesses You.

The Present Rearranges The Past. We Never Tell The Story Whole Because A Life Isn't A Story; It's A Whole Milky Way Of Events And We Are Forever Picking Out Constellations From It To Fit Who And Where We Are.

No One Is Born A Writer; Literacy Is A Peculiar Mode Of Being, But I Was All About Stories From A Very Early Age, Before Reading.

Growing Up North Of San Francisco, I Immersed Myself In The Local Landscape And In Books About Native Americans, Cowboys, And Pioneers That Seemed To Ground Me In It, But To Pursue Culture In Those Days Meant Being Spun Around Until Dizzy And Then Pushed East.