Claim Your Space. Draw A

When Everything Is Immediately Available And Infinitely Reproducible, Nothing Is Valuable.

While Writing Cold Mountain, I Held Maps Of Two Geographies, Two Worlds, In My Mind As I Wrote. One Was An Early Map Of North Carolina. Overlaying It, Though, Was An Imagined Map Of The Landscape Jack Travels In The Southern Appalachian Folktales. He's Much The Same Jack Who Climbs The Beanstalk, Vulnerable And Clever And Opportunistic.

I Met People When We Lived Down In Raleigh Who'd Ask Where I Grew Up, And I'd Say About Two Hours West Of Asheville, And They'd Say They Didn't Know There Was Any North Carolina Two Hours West Of Asheville. It Was In Many Ways An Isolated Place.

All I Can Say Is That We Are Mistaken To Gouge Such A Deep Rift In History That The Things Old Men And Old Women Know Have Become So Useless As To Be Not Worth Passing On To Grandchildren.

But She Couldn't Dismiss Easily His Light Touch With Her. No Pushing Or Pressing, None Of That Herding And Corralling Bullshit, Unlike Any Of Her Old Boyfriends. And Maybe Who You Fell For And Who You Eventually Loved Wasn't Rational, No Matter How Hard You Tried To List Pros And Cons And Sum The Results. You Couldn't Think Your Way Through It, Not All The Way. Maybe Just The Scent Of Somebody Carried More Weight Than Everything Else Put Together.