Rummaging through old files, I found a short entry in a folder named “Writing”. Last modified in 2020, I have absolutely no memory of it. Reproduced in its entirety:

I dreamed I was the winterkeeper. Nothing left to prove and everything to get rid of. I converted my fat to survival skills.

Worship the buffalo. Envy really. Live without shelter, rut with abandon, fill the plains with life.

Tell lies, like “When I was born my daddy put a camera in my hand.”