Rough map in hand, the bereft walk all roads in search of name and place, word and photo. The lost ones strain to be found as accomplices hold them behind brick walls and build new ones, changing maps, moving markers, hoarding answers.
Discovered fragments restore faith in the journey. But precious treasure is damning evidence of fight and flight, search and rescue, lost not found. Only the defiant keep excavating lives unknown, connected by genes that brought down the axe and unleashed the sword.
Catalogued memory gives ghosts new life, stitched and returned to lineage, nameless no more. They point the way to others waiting to be found, their patience infinite and certain of the reckoning’s audacious reward.