Over the years, I’ve found myself coming home from travels with physical reminders of the land. These are rocks that I picked up beside the river in Northern Spain where my dad played as a child. The backdrop is the cover of a Spanish tourism magazine from the 1960s that I found at my parents’ house. It shows a silhouette of the Picos de Europa mountain range, close to the province from which my grandfathers emigrated. During annual autumn visits, my cousin leads me on hikes up to Picos, and the rocks that I keep are as precious in their power to transport me as the images I bring back. The landscape has become ingrained in my identity, and my experience of place now is less about geographic location—it is a spiritual connection that I carry with me.