When I found the paths, I didn’t really know them, barely explored, bumpy with tree roots and other things, all trip and traipse, mind flood: the dinosaur sex, septic tank inspector, country living, burning chapel, pearl broach, lifeboat, magic carpet, crusades, spiders, romance shopping. To proceed, as normal, to press the start button, or blow, it’s all being timed, a game of pyramids and ruins, not too far off the map, go too far back and drawers have labels, strange writings, my drawer holding a gray-liced mummy named Carry. How silly to worry about scarves when finding an ancestor like this.
