I do not remember a beginning, for my memory is not stored in the soft pulp of a single brain but is etched in the frost of the mountainside, in the marrow of my ancestors, and in the silver disc of the moon that calls me to wakefulness.
1. Historical Baseline
Pre-1750 Wilderness Extent
The Arabian oryx paused at the crest of a sand dune, its white coat reflecting the scorching sun that would...