This book had many lives before taking the form of a book (which is still on hold for some days).
It began as a research, almost as a personal impulse, a need to understand what had happened to those families who arrived in 1889 aboard the SS Dresden. Over time, it became something bigger than me.
When I moved to Patagonia in 2010, the project took a clearer shape.
With more time to think and write, the work progressed significantly thanks to the help and encouragement of Edmundo Murray and Peter Mulvany, who were key at that time: they pushed me out of my own limitations, forced me to organize, to delve deeper, to not remain stagnant.
By then, the book was quite advanced.
But life goes on.
My two children were born, and the focus—as it should be—shifted elsewhere. The Dresden was put on hold. Not forgotten, but put away. For more than ten years.
Recently, due to an accident involving my mother, I had to stay home for a long time taking care of her. During that unusual time, the Dresden reappeared.
At first, tentatively: opening files, rereading, seeing where everything stood, wondering what was missing. Then, almost without realizing it, one thing led to another.
And here we are.
This blog, this book, this project, weren't born out of a publishing urge or a strategy. They were born from a story that demanded to be told in its entirety. From a debt to those who came on that ship and to their descendants. And also, why not say it, from a personal need to close a circle.
Thank you for being on the other side.
Thank you for reading.
Moving forward.
