Each of the three pages has text in, around, and covered amongst it, displaying the layered and often convuluted and covered nature in which the map and narrative of my life has become. Therefore I am providing a typed piece of the main chunk of the text amongst the three pieces:
I found myself breathing in the fresh Ohio air in the month of August of 1990. The Reds were about to win the World Series and the two who had made the crazy decision to give my life a chance were in for a long and convoluted journey. Cincinnati became something of a two faced coin, I loved it as home, but hated it as for its limitations. It wouldn’t be until much later in my life that I would find out how that hate was never for that beautiful city, but spawned of a misunderstanding and ignorance of the culture in which I was brought up in. The hills, oh how I miss the hills, sprawling far and deep, creating the vast caverns of the Ohio valley. It would be in these hills that I would truly find peace and home. Life would take me far and near, to lands such as South Africa, Florida, and currently Chicago, but Ill never forget those beautiful hills. They brought me in when no one else would; they gave me shelter, food, and kindred love. They stood tall, seven guardians of the city of which I proclaim my first love. Perhaps some day I will be able to repay my debt to those hills, perhaps someday they will want me back.
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