If Clare Britt were a map she would be printed on Chinese paper that was found in a bottle floating in the sea. If she were a meal she would be spicy fried chicken with all the fixins’. If she were a song she’d be a sad song about a happy clown sung by Roy Orbison. If she were a body of water she’d be an inlet swamp slowly meandering out to sea. If she were a story she’d be a tale of magic, desire, despair and intrigue. If she were a Sunday paper comic strip she would be about a dog named Biscuit that never behaves. If she were a bandit she would never stop until she got caught ‘er shot.