A teenage girl boards the bus, sits beside me, and unfolds a huge map, above which tiny kestrels reel and glide. I too feel about to fly, staring into miniature chasms, icebergs, cities, fjords. ”Are you lost?” I ask. ”No. Are you?” she replies, then stands as an old man points his walker askant at us. My new seatmate retrieves a board-game that’s also a map, a grid warped like space-time with radiant debris, dead stars, black holes. ”Ready?” he asks, flourishing his king. I sigh as the girl exits the bus, then slide my own king onto the board.