Unwinding on the train from Bristol, I sought a good cycling route between Stroud and Chalford...not the thunderous A419. Searching the map’s details, I heard the sound of a voice – clear as a bell and unmistakably my own – say “green diamonds”. No air passed my lips. It (I?) voiced the visible from somewhere far down, thought switching vision to sound…like a growth spur on a tree.

I wanted to explore more deeply the nature and meaning of this strange encounter with the mechanics of cognition — as a Flâneur might seize on the chance discovery of an unfamiliar district. But a different thought occurred, a recognition that this loose and open-ended thread of reflection could absorb disproportionate attention on my train journey. So I paused it in favour of other things, like a sensible new rationalist.

The following day in a hot Minchinhampton churchyard, I found myself returning to the general question how one should decide the time and effort to put into something. The phrase “follow your nose” came to mind. I remembered how Shadow our old black retriever would dart this way and that after a ball lost in the bushes, moist mobile nose scanning every inch of ground. I had often marvelled at his methodical skill and relentless stamina, how he would frequently lose the scent and pause and patiently retrace his steps, trial and error, a detective piecing things together.

And now his hunger to chase after every ball seems to mirror the absorption and faith of radical human curiosity. The price and reward of free thinking.

Maps can be read accurately, more or less, and art wanders.

Text & Image: 2019