What I Wrote About In 2016


2016 was an intense year. In global news, Brussels, Brexit, Trump and Pokémon GO happened. In superduber-local news (meaning, in news regarding me), I spent nine months in Washington, DC as an OpenNews Fellow for NPR, went to more conferences than ever, gave more conference talks than ever, met amazing people and even talked with them, hiked up a 14k mountain, went to the Southern Hemisphere for the first time (I went in Summer! But there was Winter!) and thought about stuff.

Here I’ll present the questions I pondered in 2016, and my blog posts that resulted out of this pondering:

1 What is a good (data vis) tool?
2 What implications has the concept of Map vs Territory?
3 How does the US election work?
4 How to communicate feelings?
5 What is the purpose of journalism?
6 Do we all need to fight against world hunger with our skills?
7 What’s the point of visualizing self-tracked data?

Let’ start simple:

1 What is a good (data vis) tool?

I don’t have a Google Analytics Tracker installed on my blog; but I’m 68.3% sure that my very practical posts about data vis were the most visited.

After spending a few hours writing a post about tools for choosing colors in data vis (with a deceptive title that suggests that this post is a manual for choosing colors)… image

…I aimed higher. I decided to recreate the same bubble chart with a few tools that were known and unknown to me. “Can’t be that hard”, I thought. “Won’t take that long”, I thought.

I ended up spending two full weeks recording GIFs, doing tutorials, checking Stack Overflow and GitHub Issues. The result were three posts. In the first post, I tried 12 charting libraries: image

In the second post, I tried 12 data vis apps: image

And the third post, I went high-level and compared the tools with each other (half a year later): image

Do I use different tools now than I did before? No. Was that the goal? No. I’m happy to have a better overview of the field, and I was happy to share that overview with all of you. And the best thing about writing the post was having an excuse to have conversations with great tool makers like Christopher Groskopf or Ben Fry.

2 What implications has the concept of Map vs Territory?

The prize for my most-loved-concept 2016 goes to the idea of map and territory. It’s an old idea. But one I really learned to appreciate this year.

I got so excited about it that I wrote an explainer of the concept early this year: image

…and then came back to it in a talk at NACIS in October: image

It’s an idea that made me think about the way I look at the world and how I interact it. And it definitely influenced my “Mission Statement” you’ll encounter if you’ll read on.

A very practical implication for the concept of “the map is not the territory” were this years’ election (map):

3 How does the US election work?

My brain started caring about the US election when everybody else was already tired of it. But then I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Once I understood the difference between the electoral votes and the popular votes, I was hooked. I wrote a general post about why I think that we should (also) map the popular votes: image

After the election, I added a post with the actual election results in popular votes: image

I didn’t get as much feedback as I hoped I would, but that’s ok. I guess everybody was just too busy making the most amazing election maps ever. I can live with that.

4 How to communicate feelings?

Feelings are hard, man. Also blurry. And necessary. This year I bravely marched into the unknown fields of writing absolute not-criticizable posts about my feels.

I started with explaining “How I feel when I have a conversation”– which was extra tricky, because it was about privacy issues and I don’t know a thing about privacy. image

I continued with talking/gif-ing about “How I Feel When I Learn To Code”image

…and ended the year with a love letter to drawing thoughts and using pen and paper. image

All these topics have been covered by smart people long before me. But I found writing these posts incredible helpful. In the best case, these posts built a compelling narrative for me – and let people compare their experiences with mine (as I’ll explain a bit later in the part “What’s the point of visualizing self-tracked data?”). Win-Win!

5 What is the purpose of journalism?

At the beginning of the year I went to the Responsible Data Forum in NYC. Coming from my “data vis for journalism” bubble, the mostly advocacy-driven attendees opened up a new field for me. One exchange with Steve Lambert during some team work resonated especially strong with me. When I asked him “So what’s the goal of our data vis here? What should it accomplish?”, he said “Change, of course.” I was blown away. And jealous: NGOs and activists have very clear goals; journalism lacks them. What IS the goal of journalism, really? To answer that question, I read lots of mission statements of newspapers, had discussions with smart people like Brian Boyer, Gregor Aisch and Alan Smith, asked Twitter and drew diagrams like the following: image

I also gave a talk at my maybe favorite conference this year, Information+; about how I want journalism to focus on context instead of anecdotes: image

But I found a truly satisfying answer to the question why journalism matters in a slightly related question:

6 Do we all need to fight against world hunger with our skills?

A highlight of this year was discovering Polygraph. Its creator, Matt Daniels is obviously very talented. But something felt wrong about it. In his articles, he drew attention to words that rappers use in their lyrics; instead of to the main issues on this planet (as Hans Rosling or Max Roser would do). I couldn’t understand why Matt didn’t use his amazing talents for the greater good. In an email conversation, he replied to my discomfort with the following words:

I’d argue that every project that I’ve done has had impact – it just depends on how you qualify “impact.” Take the rapper vocab project for example: Teachers have used it as a way to engage students in math/literature, grounded in something kids care about. Numerous people have emailed me that they were inspired to pursue coding, design, and data viz via that project. It’s been used to legitimize hip hop, which is widely marginalized in the realm of intellectual culture.

For me, that was mind blowing. He doesn’t just state that “impact” is a very, very blurry concept (lots of concepts are). He also implies that you can’t always foresee what the positive consequences of your work will be – but you can trust people to use your work for their goals. These goals might not be your top priorities (“engage students in math”), but they are THEIR first priority. It means that people can use and interpret you work in different ways. I can see something in a different way than the artist intended, and it can still be extremely valuable for me. And such an artwork could have a huge impact on me.

This epiphany made me more comfortable about my own (not-big-problems-like-hunger-solving) work. And I saw it as a good-enough purpose for journalism: Journalists try to educate people who are in different positions and will use the same information differently.

It also resulted in the first draft of a “Mission Statement” for my work. In my daily blog, I wrote down what kind of things I want to create:

  • Something that resonates with me and makes me feel something, like music.
  • Something that’s beautiful and sophisticated.
  • Something that makes me wonder.
  • Something that makes me feel astonished.
  • Something that shows the map of the world I have.
  • Something that sets my map in context to other maps out there.
  • Something that sets my map in context to the territory out there.
  • Something that shows me that maps are maps and not the territory.
  • Something that shows me the world from a different perspective.
  • Something that challenges what I know about the world.

These goals don’t want to be fully achieved, but always aimed for. Doing this was my main intentions for my two election map posts, and for a little visual experiment that asked: Which Cities Are On Similar Latitudes? image

Turns out, challenging beliefs is one of my favorites hobbies. I’ll try to come up with more ideas that will do so in the future.

7 What’s the point of visualizing self-tracked data?

People who have read my blog exactly a year ago might remember my issues with Self Tracking and its visualisation. “Self-tracking results in irrelevant visualisations which give a fake comfort of meaning, but don’t help neither the tracked person nor the viewer”, I wrote a bit bitter. As somebody who has done some quantified selfing myself, I wanted to see a point in it, but just couldn’t.

Until I met Nicolas Felton at Resonate in Belgrade. Finally I found the perfect guy to ask. His most appealing argument in our conversation was that readers can compare their lives with the life of the self-tracker. That mirror-effect works similar to a fiction piece – but instead of asking yourself “Would I have been brave enough to destroy that spaceship from within?”, you ask “Do I have more or less social contact than this guy? Am I exploring my city less? Do I exercise more?”. I was so happy with that answer that I drew another little diagram: image

And it made me feel better about so many projects I encountered in 2016.

Last, and also least?

I don’t think that every post I wrote is the best post I’ve ever written, but I’m still glad I wrote them. Here are the posts that truly deserve to be mentioned at the very bottom of this Year In Review article:

An explanation of Information Theory and its definition of “information”, applied to American vs. German small talk: image

“How I organize my files”. A friend asked me to write about that. I’m looking forward to look back at it in 20 years: image

At the end of October, I gave an experimental session I titled “Let’s Ask All Our Embarrassing Data Questions”. A few days later, I wrote about what went well and what didn’t: image


And that was it! 2016. Thanks to all the amazing people I met at all the conferences I’ve visited (Responsible Data Forum, Tapestry, NICAR, International Journalism Festival, Resonate, Data Journalism Unconference, Information+, Netzwerk Recherche, SRCCON, Hacks/Hackers Media Party Buenos Aires, NACIS, MozFest). Thanks to everyone who gave me an opportunity to give a talk or to talk through ideas. Thanks to everyone who retweeted my work and/or told me what they got out of it; it made my day every single time. Thanks to everyone who pushed me and/or the data vis field forward in 2016. And thanks to everyone who read an article or two on this blog.

Let’s do everything even better in 2017! If you want me to cover anything specific on this blog, write me an email (lisacharlotterost@gmail.com) or find me on Twitter (@lisacrost).

Drawing Thoughts – A Love Letter

image First sketch for my election graphics.

I love drawing my ideas. Using pen and paper is a very big part of my work as a data vis designer. I doodle, I sketch, I make notes. It always comes very natural to me. Intuitively, I grasp for a close-by paper and pen multiple times a day. It’s something I don’t think rationally about.

That’s what I want to do here: To think about it. Why does drawing thoughts feel so good? I found some reasons, and I’d love to hear yours. This is my love letter for using pen and paper:

It structures my thoughts. Paper is not a passive butler who just saves my thoughts as they are. What paper wants from me is a structured version – a version that CAN be drawn down in the first place. I need to bring my blurry, tangled ideas into shapes and forms that are separate from each other. I need to categorize, label, organize. This process feeds back: It changes my thoughts, which then result in a new drawing.


It doesn’t distract the creator. White, unruled paper invites me to endless possibilities. The unlimited potential of the sheet of paper in front of me is magic. Everything is an option. When I’m sketching out a new project, the pen lets me ignore technical difficulties. What separates my blank sheet of paper from ingenuity is not technology, but skills and smarts. I don’t need to open StackOverflow to know how to draw. There is no technological constraint to overcome; no bug to fix; no tutorial to watch to be able to draw with a pen. I don’t get distracted from the tool and the technical problems I have with it. I focus on the thoughts I want to bring to paper. I ask “What is think-able?” before asking “What is do-able?”

It doesn’t distract the viewer. Everyone knows how to use a pen, so everybody can relate. Nobody asks “How did you do this?” when I show them a drawing, because they know the answer: “Practice, and my imagination.” When someone asks me the same about some code I wrote, the answer is complex: “There is this new library out there, and that lets you do x while still be able to do y, and then I imported it into z where I did this little hack which let’s you…” Looking with somebody at code ends up in conversations about technology. Looking at drawings ends up in conversations about the content.


It gives me an overview. Boy, I looooove overviews. Overviews are the best. Overviews let me compare, prioritize and decide between elements. To see all my thoughts on one piece of paper at once gives me a map. This map can show me empty spots that still need to be thought about. This map can show me my goal, and it can show me how to get there.

It lets me stay high-level. Designers need to work in two modi: The high-level mode asks: “How do I organize the content?” The low-level mode asks: “How do I make it look good?”. The high-level mode requires common sense, thinking about user experience, storytelling and structuring skills (or, as Juani Ruiz Echazú puts it, “setting up a skeleton”). The low-level mode requires a defined taste for everything visual and insights into how it gets perceived: colors, shapes, images, layout, type. Most tools put me immediately in the low-level mode: Adobe Illustrator, Photoshop, CSS. Pen and paper is one of the rare tools that forces me to think high-level. I can’t decide for a typeface here; everybody will understand that my hand-writing is a placeholder for that still-to-be-made decision. Everybody will understand that color will be added. Lines will be straightened. Shapes will be resized according to the actual data. And when I say “everybody”, I include myself. Pen and paper don’t ask: How will elements look like? Pen and paper ask: What elements will be where?


I often use drawing to lay out blog posts or presentations I will give. Here are some sketches and links to the final posts:

image Draft for my talk at Information+: Less News, More Context. I draw slides next to each other when I want to think through alternatives for the same slide.

image Draft for my How I Feel When I Have A Conversation post. It was originally just about Facebook. I chose a more general view for the final blog post.

image Draft for my How I Feel When I Learn To Code-GIF. I did some more searching sketches beforehand, so this draft is already very similar to the final piece.


I haven’t read Dear Data, Drawing a Hypothesis or Infographics Designers’ Sketchbooks yet, but I probably should. Have a look at them if you’re interested in the topic.

The US Election 2016 in Popular Votes


Let’s map the unmapped voters. Let’s not show the winner of each state, but the percentage of people and voters that voted for a specific candidate: The popular vote. I talked and wrote about the reasons to do so. The following graphics and maps are dedicated to the popular vote of the US Election 2016 (you know, the one last week. The one where Trump won).

Let’s start with an explanation of the electoral college:


If we know the percentage of people who voted for the winning candidate in each state, we can look at the votes that we normally don’t find on a map:


This map prove once again that it was a close race. There were lots of blue votes in red states – and lots of red votes in blue states.

If we go one step further, we can take non-voters into account: People who are not allowed to vote (because they are under 18 years old, in prison etc.) and people who didn’t want to vote. And this time, we don’t look at the electoral college votes, but at the population. The states in the following graphic are sorted by the share of the population that voted for Trump. We can see that a greater share of people voted for Trump in red states like Texas or Utah than in blue states like Delaware or Oregon:


In fact, thanks to the immense population in blue states, there were more Trump voters in Illinois, New York and California than in 12 of the most red states:


Do you have comments, better ways to map the popular vote or found mistakes? Let me know on Twitter or write to lisacharlotterost@gmail.com. Thank you!

Let's Ask All Our Embarrassing Data Questions/Review


What does scraping actually mean? Why would I need databases and what the heck is MongoDB? What’s the difference between SQL and SQLite? And can I truncate my y-axis or will the data vis community kill me? Even if we’ve worked with data for years, we might have simple questions like that. And now it’s too late to ask. Waaaay too late. Nobody can ever know that you still don’t know what Pandas is. Or why people use PostgreSQL.

Last weekend, hundreds of people came together to celebrate the Mozilla Festival in London, “the world’s leading festival for the open internet movement.” My fellow OpenNews fellows and I attended – that’s me and two of them in Hyde Park:


I decided to host a session that would tackle all the knowledge gaps in the sphere of data. The idea: During one hour, all attendees anonymously submit data questions (which we gathered in an Etherpad). Then everybody reads one question and tries to answer it. If she or he needs help, the whole group helps out.

Why I wanted such a session to happen? Because self-taught as many of us are, we have gaps in our knowledge and skills that other people can fill. And we all can fill other people’s knowledge gaps.

The whole session was one big experiment. I’ve never hosted such a question round before. Here is a write-up of what went well, and what could be improved the next time. Let’s start with what didn’t go well, and how to improve it:


What didn’t go well

My aim was to close knowledge gaps. That definitely happened. But it happened far more for beginners than for advanced people. During the session, we answered questions that were on hugely different levels. Questions like “What does scraping mean?” as well as “How can I more reliably bin data for choropleth maps?”. The advanced people were the ones answering the basic questions to beginners AND the advanced questions to other advanced people. It might be a good idea to divide beginners and advanced people in different groups.

If I was hosting such a session again, I’d try to get more un-googlable questions. Google got you covered when you ask “What is an API?”, but not if you want to know if “your audience really interacts with your interactive dataviz”. Answering the latter question challenges the advanced people more than answering the former one. Also, un-googlable questions require opinions more than explanations. That’s good, because explaining things is hard. People think for hours how to explain an API best – it’s unlikely that my session attendees and I can come up with perfect explanations in seconds. The result were sometimes confusing answers (which could demotivate to learn more about it), and not enough time to go in-depth and ask clarifying questions.

Third improvement: Better defining the question space. “Data” is an extremely big field: It includes Business Intelligence and stats, maps and interactivity. I appreciate about the field of data visualization that every new project challenges us to learn about new tools, methods, workflows. And most answers made me learn something relevant. But a dashboard person won’t gain anything out of hearing an answer to the question: “Are there any good/clear resources for better understanding of “overpass turbo” queries in OSM?” It would be helpful to at least define the industry for such a session: Will it be about data questions in journalism? Or in science, or in business?


What went well

I was positively surprised especially about how open people were with their questions and with what they didn’t know. I tried to create a safe space by
a) talking about how we are all students and teachers at the same time and that nobody can know anything
b) doing a fun short exercise in the beginning where people needed to interact with each other
c) splitting the attendees in two groups to create more intimacy
d) letting people submit questions anonymously
e) stressing it a lot when I didn’t know something.

And it was great to see how quickly people came up with questions. I prepared some questions beforehand, but we didn’t even get to them.

I was also happy with the engagement of the attendees. I hope that everybody got something out of it: The beginners got answers, and the advanced people got the feeling of helping somebody; of explaining things that are relevant for at least one person in the room.

In general, it was definitely an experiment in which I’ve learned a lot. The concept needs improvement, but I look forward to trying it out the next time.

After splitting the attendees into two groups, the great Simon Jockers lead the other group and gave valuable feedback afterwards. Thanks, Simon! And the photo and GIF are by the great Drew Wilson. Thanks, Drew! All questions can be found here.

Map Poetry

This is the transcript of a talk I gave at NACIS 2016 in Colorado Springs. I didn’t include all of the slides, to make it more readable.


Wyoming is boring. Nobody cares about Wyoming. I don’t know that because I asked people or because I was there, but because I looked at the maps that people drew of the United States. I found 48 of these maps, and 17 people forgot to draw Wyoming in the first place. (Nobody forgot California or Florida.) Well, this person included Wyoming:


Here we can see the shapes of all the drawn Wyoming’s. A few people remember that Wyoming looks like a simple rectangle. Most of them don’t:


Hey, my name is Lisa and when I don’t enjoy NACIS, I visualize data. But today I want to talk about Map Poetry: Why we need it, what it is and how it can change the way we see the world.


When we look at a map of the world, we can’t see it as it is. We all lay an internal map of the world on top of the geographical one and only see what’s important to us. This internal map consists of memories & experience, associations, values, beliefs. It is incredible individual. There is no internal map that matches a second one. We all look at the same world differently. And we all look at the same maps differently, and sees different things; according to our internal map of the world.


What do you see here? Where do your eyes get drawn to? Where you live? Where you grew up? Or, when you’re not from the US, the places that Hollywood told you are important?


Hand-drawn maps can show us what people actually notice in their environments. For some of you, Wymoning might be incredible important, because of beautiful memories (or terrible memories). And then of course you’d know that Wyoming is of rectangular shape, because that’s the place you notice when you look at a map of the US. Most people don’t notice Wyoming when they look at the same map. For most people, Wyoming is not important.

For me, Berlin is important. I lived in that city for 2 years. This is a map of Berlin as we all see it on OpenStreetMap:


This is a map of Berlin how I see it. The brighter an area, the more comfortable I feel navigating. The white buildings and streets are the places I know by name. This is my internal Berlin map:


If somebody asks me: “Have you heard of that new restaurant x? It’s between “Do you read me?” and Rosenthalerplatz on the Kleine Augustusstraße”, then I think: Aaah, great, I know exactly where that is. Well, ok, that’s not how it works, most often. Most often somebody asks me: “Do you know street a? In district b?” and I say: “No, is that close to shop c?” Then they say “Nah, it’s close to park d…do you know this one?” And it takes some time until we find streets and locations that are in the internal maps of both of us.

Here is a map of Dennis Wood that has a similar idea: It’s also cutting away things that he can’t see.


But in contrast to my internal Berlin map, we all share that view, because it’s an actual view. It’s not an internal map. He actually stood on a hill in his neighborhood and drew away parts of the map that were not in his view field. I like that map a lot, because it’s so paradoxical: Maps were supposed to give us an absolute overview. And he takes the maps and says: “What I can’t see from here, nobody should be allowed to see on the map. There is no world beyond my perception of it.” And that’s true for internal maps as well: For our internal maps, what we can recall, exists. What we don’t remember doesn’t exist. We cut away huge chunks of the territory to build our internal maps.

An internal map that many of us share are stereotype maps. Many Berlin people can agree that this is how Berlin works. It seems to add a layer of meaning to the city. But what it really does is cutting away SO, SO much of the meaning. It’s a map that simplifies extremely.


Of course, each map simplifies. That’s what maps are made for. The map can’t be the territory. We can’t deal with the chaos out there. Both the geographical and the internal map must simplify to be useful.


A geographical map, for example, cuts away people. This map of Berlin looks like there don’t live any people. It’s a ghost town. Of course, we understand that simplification. Geographical maps are mostly built for navigation, and we don’t need to know things like the number of people on the street to navigate.


Internal maps have a similar goal: They too are there to make navigating the world possible and efficient. I don’t have the time and motivation to actually poll every single person who lives in these Berlin neighborhoods, so I choose to put them all in one big basket and label it with the stereotype that seems socially accepted.

But with geographical and internal maps, it’s important that we know THAT we simplify. And that we are aware HOW we simplify, and what the limitations are.

Eviatar Zerubavel says: “Examining how we draw lines will […] reveal how we give meaning to our environment as well as to ourselves.” And here’s where Map Poetry gets important. I’d argue that Map Poetry can make us aware of the lines we draw, and can bring back the cut-away junks.

Let’s start with a definition. We all have a mental image of what Maps are in the sense we talk about it here at that conference: They are geographical representations of the world out there.

But what’s Poetry?

This, for example. It’s an extract from Edgar Allan Poe’s “A Dream Within A Dream”. He talks about a very specific experience: Standing on the shore, holding sand, weeping:


This is the first trait of a poem: Most often, they describe a very small subset of the world – quite in contrast to a map, which tries to give you an overview. Poe describes only a tiny experience in his life.


And it’s important to note that it’s a very personal experience he talks about. What he describes is highly subjective (not as objective as most maps try to appear).


A third virtue of poetry is its ambiguity. Poems can be interpreted in hundred different ways. Everybody reads something different out of the it.


And in the best case, poetry doesn’t just result in a rational interpretation, but evokes an emotion in the reader. As a piece of art, a poem is sublime.


Map Poetry (how I define it) has all these traits, especially the first two ones. Map Poetry doesn’t give us the overview, how maps usually do it. Map Poetry focuses on a subset of the world and looks at it from a subjective standpoint rather than a seemingly objective god-like perspective. Map Poetry makes us aware that the territory out there is, indeed, complicated, and complex and entangled. And that we all perceive it differently.


Before I start showing examples; two remarks: First, Map Poetry doesn’t equal Map Art, but is a subset of it. Map Art can include beautiful designed maps that still show an objective overview. But Map Poetry is related to lots of other fields. It seems like a general term for this idea is not found yet. If you want to google for Map Poetry pieces, I recommend googling for any of these terms.

Now I want to show two examples of people bringing the cut-away junks back into geographical maps.

First, Dennis Wood again – and his maps that some of you might be aware of. He and his students mapped a small neighborhood in North Carolina (Boylan Heights in Raleigh). But instead of mapping buildings and streets, they mapped wind chimes, street signs and Jack-O-Laterns – objects that we normally think of as “unworthy” for mapping. His maps point out all the things we cut off when we map the territory:


But Dennis Wood didn’t seek out to understand how people perceived this town in North Carolina. Becky Cooper did – for Manhattan. On her blog “Map your memories”, she let’s New Yorkers draw their internal map over a blank map of Manhattan. It shows us that the city doesn’t look the same for everybody, but that everybody associates different memories with it.


However, it gets really interesting when we change geographical maps to show our internal map. Hand-drawn maps like the ones from the United States I showed at the beginning are excellent for that.

More than 3 years ago, when I visited Oxford for the first time, I drew this tiny map. I didn’t plan to use it in a talk one day when I scribbled it, so please excuse that it’s a surprisingly ugly map for a design student:


I show it to point out one detail: This white spot there. Oxford doesn’t have rollercoasters. But this part of town felt like a maze to me, in which I walked in circles. So the map shows how I felt like rather than how it is. But it only shows how I felt in that moment. Half a year later, I returned to Oxford for an exchange semester, and I learnt to navigate that maze. I would have not drawn that loop in my Oxford map after spending a semester there.

And if we get one step further, we don’t just map the world as it feels – but re-imagine the world based on how we feel. One example for that is Sarah Michael Levine’s “San Hoboyorkesey”, which I really like:


She combines streets from all the cities she has lived in: Hoboken, Jersey City, Manhattan, San Francisco. Sarah created her own personal “Sarah city”, in which she has the best of all the worlds she lived in. “All maps are fictional and sentimental, this one just a little more.”, she writes about her map.

All these Map Poetries are not useful for navigating, which is the main reason that maps are made. You can’t use Dennis Wood’s maps to find an address in this town in North Carolina. You can’t use Becky Cooper’s map to find Times Square. You can’t use my Oxford map to navigate through the tiny alleys. And you can’t use Sarah Michael Levine’s map to find your way from San Francisco to Manhattan.


But in my opinion, watching ourselves exploring these maps and comparing our own experience with the experience of the map maker is the real use:


These are just some questions that Map Poetry asks. It can make us more away of all the things that geographical and internal maps cut away. I think we need more of that. I’ll try to create more Map Poetry – and I’d be happy if you’d did the same. So that we can compare them. And then alter our internal maps.