In 1963 an American boat near the coast of one northern country saw smoke coming out of the sea. It was not a ship on fire. (11) Within several weeks there was land where the map showed only water, and within two years the island was a mile across. Nobody was allowed to set foot on it, (12) scientists wanted to watch what would come first. A seed arrived in the mouth of a bird. Then a plant, then an insect, then a low gray plant. (13), a new piece of the world was built in front of people who were writing it down. We usually see land as something that was always here, (14) this one had a birthday.
A map looks like a fact, but every map is a choice. (15) A map made for a sailor shows deep water and rocks; a map made for a walker shows hills and paths, and leaves the sea almost blank. Neither is wrong. Coasts move, rivers change their beds, and a plain that was green in one memory is gray in another, (16) paper cannot follow all of it. (17), every map is a picture of one moment, made for one kind of person. This is worth remembering when we look at a map of somewhere we have never been. It shows us what somebody chose to show, (18) what they left out may be the part we would have cared about.