Generations of visitors have left their marks on the carcass of this ancient Sequoia. I move in to isolate detail suggesting an island of man, adrift in a black crevice of time. This crevice begins in the lower right hand corner of the frame and sweeps up beyond the center, turning back again to exit in the upper right hand corner. The tiny island, and the surrounding hills and valleys of aged redwood, are engraved with names and initials of those who want to somehow be remembered for as long as this log survives. These inscriptions have been left here in recent times. The wood, however, has been in this forest for centuries.