My sense of direction is horrible. Meanwhile, my husband, a cultural anthropologist, always knows where he is. Even in an unfamiliar place, he can quickly find his way. When I drove (I no longer drive though), I often had to wake him up to figure out the route. • To get any destinations, I end up taking several detours. I used to say that all roads were connected but now I know that it is hardly true. Still, I think that detours are full of surprises, both good and bad, which can feed my thought. Despite my hopeless sense of direction, I love looking at maps, not digital maps on small screens, Atlas printed on large size paper. I am not an avid traveler. I rather want to stay home, but love maps. They remind me how different each region is. I sometimes forget that the way one thinks and feels is influenced by given geographical conditions. Maps also remind me how apart we actually are. This spatial sense, on the one hand, evokes romanticism, but on the other hand, makes me feel lost and disoriented. It's strange, isn't it, considering that the purpose of map is orientation?
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