Why an unpaid volunteer is inside the structure and outside its protections. The labor the parks depend on, the housing tied to the placement, the statewide policy that can remove a volunteer but will not protect one, and why this archive exists at all.

Written the day the final correspondence was sent. On what it means to follow what is true before you have language for that process. On building from whatever reality provides — including $7, a domain, and an institution with state authority arrayed against you.

Written five days before the final correspondence. On saying okay into a recording after she hung up — and meaning: I know exactly what comes next. On anticipatory documentation. On Cascadia. On the Siltcoos at the end of a day where spring was coming and nothing was resolved and everything was true.

The original archive. Written the day of expulsion — before the evidentiary structure, before the domain, before oprdvolunteerabuse.org existed. The story as it was first written, when all he had was the record and somewhere to put it. This is where the documentation began.

The poem that became evidence. Written at Cape Blanco the day before volunteering for Oregon State Parks began. Sent to a volunteer coordinator as an explanation of why the coast mattered — why it was worth moving into an RV and driving across the country for. Used at the coercion meeting as an attempt to establish inappropriate boundaries. It was a poem about the ocean.