Karen Peterson Butterworth was born in Catlins, South Otago and now lives on the Kāpiti Coast. She has had five careers, the most recent as writer; has published a bit and has some prize certificates on her study wall. Of Paleolithic British, Celtic, Viking, Anglosaxon and god-knows-what-else descent, she possesses hybrid vigour, small-island cunning and stubbornness. A know-it-all for most of her life, she now agrees with Socrates and Manuel the waiter that she knows nothing. All human thought must therefore be either poetry or fiction. Provided, of course, that human thought exists. Or humans.