But what is a map, any map, however subtle its scale, to the song of the skylark? What is a map to the arc of the avocet, that slow flight back from extinction to survival? What is a smooth sheet of paper to the centuries of evensong sung in peninsular churches, to the thousands of cockle shells embedded in their walls? What is a map to the murmur of the rising tide, to those three white egrets, aglow in the pewter sky?
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