A map, in the end, has to lead somewhere.
Cornelio. A bird's consonance for a man's destiny. One might imagine a shared etymology with the corneille, French for crow, but the root lies elsewhere, planted in the sacred ground of a Venetian chapel. There, a mother made a vow to Saint Martin, giving up the father's name to offer the son's instead: Cornelio.
But when chance gets things wrong, it sets them right. From this false kinship with the bird, a true alliance was born.
Wherever I go, crows walk ahead of me. They mark out the sky, land where no one expects them, point to the light, point to the subject.
Forgive us if you catch us mid-conversation; we may be talking about you.
A map, in the end, has to lead somewhere.
© 2026 korzybski + elstir · geneva