Extract #3

I used to feel secure with the blue pin head hovering over my town: you are here, until I realised how absolutely it eclipsed me and felt at stuck as that pin. I started to think that if my town is no more than a pinprick on a map then what must I be, and I travelled as though the threads shooting off across the map might tether me to the world, stop me floating away with this feeling. But staring at it now I know that however many pins assure me that I have been here; however tangled the tapestry of thread becomes; I will have made no lasting mark outside of the worn-out map in my room.


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