I am compelled to tell a story. It is a romantic story, a story that is marked by the gradual changes that lead to some kind of truth, like the process of breathing. This part of the story is filled with muscle and teeth. It contains an ache. It is a love story whose history dates back 40,000 years. That history isn’t just about survival; it feeds families and communities. It is a hook and line story of a hunger that pulses and throbs and thrashes to life in the course of a journey as continuous as a body of water, the sea. It is a story made up of many stories, of how living turns to dying, and how in that dying there is honest living.
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