Roam marks a migration: back, forward and round again. Who stays? Who is allowed to roam? Mistakes, reverses--what do we take of our presence and past as we discover the world through our own perceiving? Motion comes first, then form. What is fixed? And who is with us? How does the past come toward us? How do we make sense of loss, silence? Disoriented, relating to a past that is unclear, we cannot be sure both where we are and which direction we're moving. The question becomes where is the future? Roam proceeds toward it by echolation and witness--making something integral come alive.