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I think that part of my inability to read maps in a meaningful, or indeed navigational, way stems from my not being very well travelled beyond the south west of England. I did, however, once set off to start a new life in Barcelona.
I have always felt I was meant to be a seasoned world traveller. With this in mind I left my home, job and partner behind in dull old Devon to go and live the dream. I had several leaving parties where friends commended my courage and declared me to be an inspiration.
The map above is a summary of my bold adventure. I’ll produce further details in subsequent posts as, to the psychocartographer in general, Barcelona presents an excellent study. To The Psychocartographer it’s significance is enormous. It’s an axis as well as a parallel universe where I still live.
In this universe my new life lasted a week. For all sorts of reasons which don’t really make sense now, I slunk back to Devon. One of them, which makes me want to slap myself, was ‘I missed the rain’.
Upon my return I was too embarrassed to leave the house for two days. When I was eventually forced to go out for supplies I bumped into a friend in the co-op. Her look of utter confusion made me feel that it would be possible to pass myself off as a blip in the space/time continuum. In the event, I muttered something about it being a long story and scuttled away.
I’m not sure if it is a long story, but it’s one that lends itself to being explored via the medium of maps.