Mt. Williamson

Mt. Williamson

In the camp at Manzanar, the freedom and permanence of the mountains always floated just outside our window.  Usually, I grasped for the mountain, and was trapped and angry. But in rare moments when I simply saw the mountain, I could fly, and I could wait.

In the camp at Manzanar, the freedom and permanence of the mountains always floated just outside our window.  Usually, I grasped for the mountain, and was trapped and angry. But in rare moments when I simply saw the mountain, I could fly, and I could wait.

Not Love. Things.

Not Love. Things.

Bodger

Bodger