I vaguely remember a bus and a burning field dotted with underground vents that threw up some kind of vitriol that clung to my throat and eyes. I remember walking within this conflagration and falling to the ground and pulling myself up only to fall again. I have no idea how long I kept this up before I arrived at this house. I have this image of a child helping me along, but I realize this is impossible because no one could have survived the crash in this desolate, volcanic place. I am using the word crash because I assume it is this event that had left me stumbling on the road, my memory wiped away. Three times over the last few days, I have attempted to retrace my steps to determine if there were any survivors or even luggage and equipment left behind – if in fact the vehicle is still t
