This depiction of a roadside cartographer by
Henry Martin makes me feel happy and calm. It's such a pleasant concept. Thoroughly obsolete today, what with all of our electronic guidence systems. But in April of 1987 when this ran in The New Yorker, it might have almost been practical... but the only place where there'd be enough lost traffic would probably be a more urban setting. But this did remind me of the story
"The Mappist" by Barry Lopez, which I heard on the
Selected Shorts program. I highly recommend both.
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