Probably you will never know just why your story has struck so deeply home with me and why it seemed to make you more a son to me than a stranger.

I have guessed that in going west you are simply wandering.

You are fighting in a vain and foolish sort of way to run away from something.

Isn't that it?
You are running away--trying to escape the one thing in the whole wide world that you cannot lose by flight--and that's memory.

You can _think_ just as hard in Japan or the South Sea Islands as you can on Fifth Avenue in New York, and sometimes the farther away you get the more maddening your thoughts become.