“We carried bottled water and day packs and cameras, except for Fred, who said he didn’t believe in taking photographs; he planned to store his memories in his head, an idea I found incomprehensibly radical. My impulse to record was almost on par with my impulse to travel”

“The virtue of the camera is not the power it has to transform the photographer into an artist, but the impulse it gives him to keep on looking.”

“Planning is not my friend. Impulse is.”

“He didn’t really like travel, of course. He liked the idea of travel, and the memory of travel, but not travel itself.”

“Travis ran his hand over the stubble on his scalp, shaking his head. “He didn’t get out,” he whispered. “He didn’t get out, Pidge.”My breath caught as I watched the soot on his cheeks streak with his tears. He fell to his knees and I fell with him.“Trent’s smart, Trav. He got out. He had to have found a different way,” I said, trying to convince myself as well.Travis collapsed into my lap, gripping my shirt with both fists. I held him. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Is there anything I can say to convince you to stay out of this?” he pleaded, his voice taking on a softer tone. I shook my head. “Of course not.” “I didn’t think so,” he said miserably.”