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"... Boaz-Jachin
doubted that his father's map would be of any use to him. He had
remembered it as large and beautiful.
Now he thought
of it as small and cramped, too neat, too calculated, too little
cognizant of unknown places, of the night places waiting beyond the day places, of the
somewheres dropping from the open wombs of nowheres. He felt lost as he had not
done since being with the lion.
'Maps,' he said
softly. 'A map is the dead body of where you've been. A map is the
unborn baby of where you're going.
There are no maps.
Maps are pictures of what isn't I don't want it.'
'That's beautiful,'
said the girl '"There are no maps " What don't you want ?'
'My father's map,'
said Boaz-Jachin. 'That's good,' said the girl. 'Is it yours ? Do you
write ? It sounds like the beginning of a poem: "My father's map is..." What is it ?'
'His,'
said Boaz-Jachin. 'And he can keep it.'
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1. Cartographer | Explorer | Arch...
