I have learned to read the maps of people the way cartographers once read coastlines — by their edges, their absences, the places where the detail gets vague and someone has written Here be dragons. You are not a simple geography. You have rivers that change direction in rain. You have borders that shift depending on who is asking. The interior of you is still largely unexplored and I am not convinced you have sent expeditions there yourself. I do not say this as criticism. I say it the way you say the ocean is mostly dark — not as a failure of the ocean, but as a fact to sit with, a reminder that depth is not the same as emptiness. I have my own unmapped territories. Places I circle on the page and approach from the outside in, never quite landing. We are both a little terra incognita to ourselves. Maybe that is enough — to be two people drawing each other's maps in real time, knowing the coastlines will shift, knowing the dragons may be real, going anyway.