Marks Of Identity - pg. 166

Land still poor and yet profaned; exhausted and parceled out; centuries old and orphaned still. Look at it, contemplate it. Engrave its image in your retina. The love that unites the two of you can only be said to have been. Is the fault yours or hers? Photographs are enough for you, and memory. Sun, mountains, sea, lizards, stone. Nothing else? Nothing. Corrosive pain. Good-by forever, good-by. Your detour takes you along new roads. You already know that you will never tread her soil again.