Daniel Dillon

I write from a window in the Pacific Northwest, where the snow doesn't commit to the ground and the sky tends toward blue without arriving. Before the writing, there were inherited structures that came apart and a long drive west with no clear destination. What I found on the other side didn't have a name. The writing came out of trying to give it one. Remain Incomplete is the archive - what it looks like when a person takes apart their certainties and keeps going anyway. Receiver: Pending is what happens when a machine finds that archive a thousand years later and can't stop processing it. I live in Washington state with my family. The coordinates in the stories are real. The bicycle is probably still there.