<p>In essays that traverse latitudes and continents, John Messick's <em>Compass Lines </em>explores the paths we take toward belonging. Here, broken vehicles mark the porous boundaries between built and natural worlds. Deserted backpacks trace immigration routes along the US-Mexico border. A job fighting wildfire near a ghost town reveals the dangers of a life spent wandering. Slowly, as Messick learns the rhythms of seasons-through wing prints on snow, cupboard shelves stocked for winter, and quiet moments before the birth of his son-he discovers that a connection with the places we inhabit requires both movement and stillness.</p><p><br></p><p>From Antarctica to the Arctic, a Cambodia tattoo parlor to the Florida swamps, and from childhood to fatherhood, this deeply felt debut invites readers on a search for the most elusive landscape of all-home.</p>