My shoulder is bruised from carrying lumber I salvaged out of abandon buildings. Bit by bit I have dragged some across this island and dug holes and with rocks start to form defenses around my pathetic camp. Fences, I never thought I would be building fences. Just the thought of being stationary in a fluid world is frightening. Societies rise and fall, but I thought it was all academic; it isn’t. I stayed alive to be a witness to it all and to record events and maybe if anything holds together, one day I will be new Herodotus or Geoffrey of Monomouth.  I have not recorded anything to date,but couldn’t, too low on Maslow’s hierarchy.