out my pencil and began to e all I could remember. Many a year ten tory more t t op tiffened in to t to me he promise of warm dreams.

    Not long after Specks valentine, anot landed in my lap. Luc it back from one of ing expeditions, unpacking a at tmas tree. quot;And ttle treasure, is for you. too. Paper.quot;

    ebook, to ensure t of ences. On t itle RULED COMPOSItION BOOK. On ted  of atomic attack: close t panic. Inside, tten he flyleaf.

    tually indecipy broell, it ory, or part of a story, because on t page, ting ends mid-sentence ic See Otten on tried to read it, but t of tory eluded me. ty of tion book for me stemmed from McInness self-indulgence. ten on only one side of ty-eigs of paper. I turned te my contrary story in te direction.  journal is in astest to its basic contents: a naturalists journal recording my observations of life in t, complete s—a diary of t years of my life.

    My crack time,  of time, but despair  by my friends and companions, and as I aged inside, a casual nothe boy.

    topped by mid-Marc years, and a feer t, green life s curn, fiscantly restored our energies, t corresponding to our interest in exploration. e s, ss and s o tinking bodies, dro and scum. Once, Blomma olen a bar of soap from a gas station, and  ao a splinter in a single reneh. Pale bodies on a pebbly shore, rubbed pink and clean.

    ted in ting taining eet, until self smelled pungent and bitters. Lucilled to a potent brerac over t many a July day gatness am