Humankind is naturally restless. It loves unostentatious beauty. It seeks knowledge tenaciously. And one of its preferred ways to satisfy these desires is to travel: seeing strange places and the pleasure of the novel. On my travels I have seen the world around me as an album of geopoetic landscapes. That is, neither physical geography nor real cartography, but places dreamed up by literature and art. This book is composed of five days' travels.