The Three Stones

A Dream, a Machine, and the Architecture of a Life

Three stones in African mud — white, pink, yellow — shining like they’d been waiting. I dreamed this at twenty-one. It took fifty years to understand what they signified.

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Turquoise Ink

Before I stuck my thumb out on I-684 in the summer of 1973, I had a dream.

I was twenty-one and sleeping in my child…