We die, we die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have entered and swum up like rivers, fears we have hidden in, like this wretched cave. We are the real countries, not the boundaries drawn on maps with the names of powerful men…That’s all I’ve wanted — to walk in such a place with you, with friends, on an earth without maps…

— Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient
(via A Little South of the Clouds)