Diaspora in a compromised land, stretched by forces moving so slowly, slower than we can see but with evidence left everywhere. Culture accretes faster, but still imperceptible, reminding us that no one knows everything, or anything when it comes to that. When it comes to remembering how to live, how we survived the cataclysm, we depend on those who were lost once. We depend on those who knew enough to get us here. We depend on those around us now, able to carry our hopes and our dreams of returning to a place we've only been told about.