This country and its signs

You love this country. Its lands, its cities, its forests. And above all, its skies. You came here a lot, but for the first time you have the opportunity to drive a car. Doing the driver: a good way to feel some strangeness again. To deal with the very concrete objects that compose culture, a much simpler thing than one thinks. The friend who lent his car to you for the week gave some instructions before you left. Bent over a map, he showed you the roads you would have to follow, punctuating his explanations with local details or general points about the state of his beautiful province. He notably warned you about signposts, with a disdainful pout. Signage is no good here, compared to yours. You have to know everything before you go, otherwise you won’t come through.
Once on the road, you felt he had been quite harsh. Facing these signs that split again and again roads from North to South and from East to West, you rather thought that the world was well ordered. For your liking, at least. Each arrow referring to a territory that could go without towns, without destinations. And you understood a little deeper the strength of those signs. Their ability to create specific realities.