Back to Konza after three months walking wandering wondering about El Cap Cave / Tongass National Forest / Prince of Wales Island in Southeast Alaska and one month sitting sitting sitting with a broken leg. Barely off crutches, a little stir-crazy. Didn't really want to go to Konza -- knew it couldn't possibly compare to the pure wild peace I felt this summer -- but oh there's no where else, nothing else, can't I just find little happinesses if I look hard enough, close enough, often enough?
Instead of making me feel familiar, welcomed, the swell of place-based memories -- turkey-sightings, path-turning, wind wind wind -- exacerbated my loneliness, my alienation. I can like the feel of the sun and the smell of the sage but I just can't like the place. Too many paths, fences, signs, other people. Too far away from my back door. Konza. It's all I have. That makes me hate it more.