It has taken extra time to conclude my thoughts on our trip to the Lakota Nation Invitational because as soon as I was back I realized the trip, for me, was not about basketball. There is a story to tell about the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation that has not been told clearly enough or loudly enough to date, and I keep looking for ways around the rupture of the post-colonial barricade that separates my own writing voice from telling that story. I guess I thought Ezra's camera could be the vehicle, arrogantly ignoring the fact that Ezra's camera belonged to Ezra, and to his own story of blood, land, and ancestry...

We left in a snowstorm on a Friday morning before the semifinals had even taken place. I felt regret that I had not spent more time with Travis and Clovia, but was pleased with the time I got with the two Lyle Noisy Hawks. I was impatient with Ezra and slightly melancholy when we left, thinking we should have shot much more footage and that the story was there in front of us, even if it had been invisible through the viewfinder.