I’m neck deep in vise-like quicksand. The people perched over on solid ground witness my struggle, but they just yell at me to pick myself up from the bootstraps and walk away, kicking up dried tears from the trail as they go.

I’m vaguely aware that my ancestors lived harmoniously with the soil, but that land was paved over long ago. Besides, I can’t speak the languages in which they recount their history or their knowledge to me....