This book is the producy of prolonged inexperience.
The discovery of America – which is as complicated today as it was in 1492 – doesn’t depend on how many miles you drive, or the number of States you’ve been to. America reveals itself in the little things. And to discover them, you need the inquisitiveness of a new arrival and the patience of a beachcomber, one of those mildly inappropriate individuals who roam the shores in search of small treasures. The seashore is America. The mildly inappropriate individual is me.