Travel asks about itself. Directions take us and we direct less than we know. Snow drifting where prescience picked up mobility, it seeds cold strategy Passing over too-fast Routes anyone fits this downdrift. No temperature. strolling, we touch little guides ice-charmed handrails, calls from doubled entrances, and replicas of the first Indications warm a returned wanderer. the replicas are truly little - removed from place their Meaning transplanted, given to anyone. we find the Inukshuk, last holiday safe so down a dune of snow children, not hurling themselves, just letting themselves, Letting Movement Ask them toward the river a Saint, which is constantly breaking. the ground slips us over it. the wind pins our faces taut.