Near Petra, Jordan.
Hamoudi the guide paused to rest at the Bedouin camp. The family lived in a cave. They looked down on a mountain road, a high trail, that was old when Roman legionnaires had marched over it to take possession of Petra. Mountains of rust. Mountains of chalk. The kids couldn’t understand how pictures and words appeared on my computer screen. They kept glancing behind the laptop cover to see where the images came from. We’ve been doing this from the very beginning: trying to see through to the origins of our stories. Then they ran away — chasing after the goats that had scattered. I watched them go. I had been walking for a year. That old road went on forever.
