I used to believe in the American dream that meant a job, credit, success. I wanted it and worked toward it like everyone else, all of us separately chasing the same thing.

One year, through a series of unhappy events, it all fell apart. I found myself homeless and alone. I had my truck and $56. I searched the countryside for some place I could rent for the cheapest possible amount. I came upon a deserted cottage in a small remote valley. I hadn’t been alone for 25 years. I was scared, but I hoped the hard work would distract and heal me.