Portrait

He pictured himself in a setting he'd never encountered. On hands and knees, climbing an oak-strewn hillside - the first to do so in known history. Ducking under red-skinned manzanitas, with the bone and claw necklaces of leather thread dangling down from his neck, perpendicular to his chest. Drinking from patches of moss nestled in the stone, or with cupped hands from a hidden stream. His body scarred to match the landscape, painted with clay, and his skin tan and freckled. Adorned with found objects of curious origin. Carrying weapons made from antler, obsidian, and hardwood. And a crown of madrone and thistles atop his head. That was the existence he hoped for.