I embark upon this journey, with clear instructions from somewhere at home: To find and claim The Lodge, and one of its trees; to assert my existence, and those who I mourn within it. Can I claim part of a territory without effecting it? During my journey an answer to this enquiry becomes suddenly obvious: Change is inevitable, and so the question refocuses onto the force and cruelty I will need to apply. It is as if the cycle of histories is me.  It becomes clear then that I am out of my depth and that I have been naïve. The force and the cruelty will be a consequence of the resistance. As for the territory, it has been declared mine before even arriving.