I spent hours in a car roasting of piss. I walked aimlessly until my lips cracked in the Austin sun. I talked to men who witnessed towns engulfed in flames. I met several fortune tellers. I reminded people of their sons, and of themselves. I drove across the country for a movie star.
While I began with the desire to walk my mother and father’s land, this eventually became my own, in paths I still can’t quite retrace. These peripatetic wanderings and encounters serving as clues, fragmented evidence of the person fabled in texts and postcards. I began to think of every interaction as a potential “star-crossed” encounter, a fated if not passing cross of hope, reflection, and recognition.