I took a gravel road into the Montana mountains one day. There was a mining town, abandoned in 1893, when the gold ran out, but the buildings still stood. Their walls were the generations’ sign-in sheet. ‘John and Elizabeth – 1942’ ‘Roger & Clarice – 1977’ and on and on, years passing into the wood. And on top of it all was ‘Ivan – 2012’. I thought about what had happened to all those people, most of them probably dead now. What will become of me? I didn’t know. I don’t know. So I drove. Off into the mountains, to get lost again.