Last autumn, I walked the old path beyond Alder Gate with a blank sheet folded in my coat. The trees had names, certainly, but the spaces between them held the real invitation: room for a thought to wander, or for a friend to arrive.
Let the quiet do some of the telling
That is why the best maps of a small world are never crowded. A red mark says where to begin, a gold glint says what might be waiting, and the white around them lets the reader make a wood of their own.