When I read, I ceased to be myself, and this nonexistence I pursued and devoured like a drug - Rebecca Solnit

A labyrinth is a symbolic journey . . . but it is a map we can really walk on, blurring the difference between map and world.

Rape and other acts of violence, up to and including murder, as well as threats of violence, constitute the barrage some men lay down as they attempt to control some women, and fear of that violence limits most women in ways they’ve gotten so used to they hardly notice–and we hardly address. There are exceptions: last summer someone wrote to me to describe a college class in which the students were asked what they do to stay safe from rape. The young women described the intricate ways they stayed alert, limited their access to the world, took precautions, and essentially thought about rape all the time (while the young men in the class, he added, gaped in astonishment). The chasm between their worlds had briefly and suddenly become visible.

Roads are a record of those who have gone before.