Remember when you first visited your nearest city as a child, the terror of becoming lost? You overcame this, and still do, by a simple remedy: a city of your mind, an invisible construct that you carry everywhere, marked with monuments and landmarks, favourite places, quickest or safest ways from here to there. And thus, although we all share a city, it can only ever be an abstract concept, an unknown, vague and nebulous thing, through witch we sleepwalk, having each arrived from different directions, occasionally bumping into each other, co-inhabiting, almost coincidentally, the same geographic space with contrary intentions.
Underpass by Daniella Geary from Where Are We Going? (page 189)