I am never in need of a map, except for when I attempt to explore someone else’s mind. I wander streets I can’t pronounce to find graveyards; open fields; skyscrapers and wells. You are a city and I want to know your suburbs. I’d like to know your poor neighborhoods. Your backroads littered with garbage and cracking asphalt. Listen to your symphonies of warning sirens and distant shouting. I want to see the non-touristy parts; your inner parts.