Land ranging and roving.

There is a book on my shelf.

It is waiting for me to take the time which it deserves.

"Landscape and Memory." 
Simon Schama

We have become illiterate to the land.


How much have we written on its surface?

I look at the map.

Map

A diagrammatic representation of an area of land or sea showing physical features, cities, roads, etc.a street map

MORE EXAMPLE SENTENCES

• The discovery of the city wall remains was not a surprise to the City Council as maps had pinpointed Peter Street as a location for the historic ruins.
• You have to identify a street with a name, using a map or a road sign.
• There have been no measures initiated nor a road map charted out, to rectify such fiscal imbalances and to restore balance for long term growth.

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.

Ranger

A keeper of a park, forest, or area of countryside:park rangers

MORE EXAMPLE SENTENCES

• That was not a secret in the city, and the police and park rangers turned a blind eye.
• Most students were restless while the park ranger explained about the animals in the area.
• During the trip, one of the kids is bitten by a snake and their guide, the park ranger, heads back to base for a serum.

I turn around the barbed forest, looking for open ground.


Rover

A person who spends their time wandering:they became rovers who departed further and further from civilization

MORE EXAMPLE SENTENCES

• I could take on a crew and sail to Canada in my own boat instead of booking passage, or turn into a rover of the sea, going where I please and doing what I like.
• But who is he, this invisible being that rules me, this unknowable being, this rover of a supernatural race?

Book

A written or printed work consisting of pages glued or sewn together along one side and bound in covers:a book of selected poems

MORE EXAMPLE SENTENCES

• After some serious research he wrote a book on the subject, Ancient Mosaics in Bulgaria.
• Rosie bought me the DVD along with a book on philosophy.
• I sat there a while longer, staring down at the vellum pages of the book on the low desk before me.

Memory

The faculty by which the mind stores and remembers information:I’ve a great memory for faces[MASS NOUN]: the brain regions responsible for memory

MORE EXAMPLE SENTENCES

• No problem there, I have a terrible memory for names so didn't even remember them five seconds after leaving the room.
• She still has a great memory for all the old Irish songs and poems.
• All creatures do need a memory for basic functioning and survival.

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)

Roving

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.

A song.

I am conscious of the space.

I pause an instant.

I remember.

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.

References.

Blommaert, J., 2010, Historical Bodies and Historical Space.

Schama, S., 1996,  Landscape and Memory

Wesch, M., 2014, Why we need a why.

Zootopia?

I was rather looking forward to coming up eye to eye with the king of the jungle.

My mother had done the pre-lion build-up on the trip to Blackpool Tower Zoo.



"You'll see they even have a lion!"

I was, it had to be admitted, a little apprehensive about being in the same space as a real lion.

After all, he did have the means to  rip me to pieces with his bare paws.

A six-year-old human would be no match for a real lion.


Sensory deprivation

I was disappointed at the pitiful lethargy of the giant cat.

He was slumped in a cage.

He looked gloomily around, yawning with a glazed look of prolonged sensory deprivation.

All roaming was limited to uncomfortable shifting of cramped up limbs.

If he had been stuffed, with a roar on cassette loop, I might have been more impressed.

I was left with a sensation of intense sadness.

Zootopia.

Yes this was much better.

The owners of the progressive zoo had imagined animal heaven.

Lions were free to roam.

Trees, long grass, contoured, landscaped, enclosure gave a quasi-naturalistic impression of 'wild-life'. (or at least a quasi-naturalistic environment in the Warwickshire countryside.)

The animals seemed much better kept,  they could even stretch their legs, and bound around.

Hunting, of course, was unnecessary as the keepers kept all the animals healthy with carefully measured, scientifically designed diets.

Clever people, are scientists.

Breeding programs were a success. 

In some enclosures, animals of different species were even mixed.

We could see zebra with zebu, and the odd antelope.

Marvellous how animals of such diverse species could manage to live in harmony for the tourists' greater pleasure.

Perhaps the animals were happy to make new exotic friends.

I am not sure if animals make friends.

We were mightily impressed at the great efforts made to educate children.

We  learnt how the zoo was responsible for preserving endangered species.

Out in the wild in Africa, the locals were often inhumane poachers.

Thank God for the World Wild Life Fund!

The Panda was doing a marvellous job in the preservation of African biodiversity.

Educational program

I would like to imagine that in the future our children will look at the enclosures in which past generations were kept as absurd anachrosnism.

They will be shocked at the controlled diets.

Out of Africa 

I was brought up with stories of discovery, of adventurers.

There have been moments in my life when I have looked on at my peers with astonishment.

Whatever happened to grand narrative?

I was shocked that on finishing university, a large number of my fellow 'students' appeared to have their lives mapped out.

They had apparently been studying to get what was called 'a good job'.

What the hell was 'a good job'?

History degrees were apparently perfect preparation for young people to become accountants.

What the hell was an accountant?

I dreamt of adventure.

I met a 'successful' brand manager while working (playing) in Public Relations.

"I hate my job," he told me, "but it's too late now, with the mortgage and all."

He would never perhaps learn of his true nature.

He had become too dependent on his comfort.

He left me with a sensation of intense sadness.