It is waiting for me to take the time which it deserves.
"Landscape and Memory."
We have become illiterate to the land.
How much have we written on its surface?
I look at the map.
A river arcs across the grid.
It continues beyond the fold.
How will I gauage its flow?
I put my licked finger to the wind and wander North.
I come to a fence and a sign.
The threats stop me in my tracks.
I turn around the barbed forest, looking for open ground.
Wide ranging questions.
The more maps we need the more we lose/have lost our (emotional/physical) attachment to the land?
What is close reading if we are detached?
Is writing to be detached?
Apparent detachment brings paradoxical attachment.
Is it to be "out of body" or is it to be "embodied"?
I know knot what I write.
(He keeps the typing error k)
I am roving across the page. I pause an instant.
There are decisions here which are hardly conscious.
I reach out for a defintion.
One definition calls over another.
I am conscious of the space.
I pause an instant.
I pick up the memory of a man who has lost his.
I place it there.
I scroll up.
I retrace my steps.
How much of my memory is dependent on what others have forgotten?
Where was I now?
I had Googled Domesday Book.
We are surrounded by cartographers, rangers and accountants.
We are much endebted.
Blommaert, J., 2010, Historical Bodies and Historical Space.
Schama, S., 1996, Landscape and Memory
Wesch, M., 2014, Why we need a why.