Being lost, I think, must be a modern affliction. It requires a collapse of personal geography. And herein lies a paradox. As our species becomes more successful, more populous, we fracture the world into ever tighter panoramas—into countries, provinces, towns, neighborhoods, streets, houses, rooms, “private space.” In this way, a proportionally larger share of the planet becomes alien, exotic, threatening, unknown. Today, we take up residence in our navels. We forget: The entire world is ours. We possess it. It is ours to move through. The anxiety of becoming lost in it—the jail-yard lifer’s fear of losing sight of his cell—is another unhappy side effect, like bad teeth, of sedentary life.
-"Lines in Sand" by Paul Salopek