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and her conclusion, finally, is this:
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San Narciso was a name, an incident among our climatic records of dreams
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and what dreams became among our accumulated daylight,
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a moment's squall line or tornado's touchdown among the higher,
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more continental solemnities,
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storm systems of group suffering and need, prevailing winds of affluence.
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There was the true continuity.
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San Narciso had no boundaries.
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No one knew yet how to draw them.
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She had dedicated herself weeks ago to making sense of what Inverarity
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had left behind, never suspecting that the legacy was America.
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And then, I'm going to skip down a little bit: