Sometime a book just speaks. Kevin Sessums’ “I Left It On The Mountain’ speaks. It speaks like poetry, it gives too much information, it’s tales are self-indulgent. But damn if it isn’t a book that speaks not just from the heart but from the soul. Sessums writes about his life, starting from when he first moved to New York City in the 70s, to working with Andy Warhol at The Factory and for Interview Magazine, segeuing to his days in Vanity Fair, and then his downward spiral to meth addiction. (The last part can be an exasperating read, but imagine living it ) In between those years, he writes about climbing Mount Kilimanjaro and walking the Camino trail to Santiago de Compostela. I must admit that sometimes the writing can be a bit much. Like a rich dessert, I sometimes needed a break from it to fully appreciate it. It took me two weeks to finish this book – no light reading here. But as I finished it, I found myself weeping – there is such profoundness here that even as I read every word, I know I have only began to scratch the surface. One day I know I will re read it and it will make more sense. I have lived a full-ish life at my age now, but I know I have not lives a life yet. Once I do, this book will make more perfect sense.