The gnats are back, swarming near my face. But I am a visitor and can leave whenever I want. My grandfather couldn’t.
The expanse of sagebrush and farmland is fading in the dying sunset, broken up by a looming, reconstructed guard tower. It’s an echo of a former Japanese American incarceration camp that's now the Minidoka National Historic Site. It’s where my grandfather’s family lived with thousands of others during World War II. I make one last photo and call it a night.
