Preface
This book begins on a beach, with something found. What it means depends on when you ask.
It is a memoir only in the loosest sense — a series of carried fragments, a set of questions interrupted by living before they could be answered. Memory, identity, and time do not arrive together. They move at different speeds, occupy different versions of the same moment. They refuse to agree on what happened.
What follows is an attempt to look at how we become who we are — despite ourselves.