In Kripke's original puzzle about belief he posited the statement "London is pretty" for analysis, deconstructing it using the tools of philosophy of language. To what, first, does "London" refer, in the first analysis, and if it successfully refers, what about the ugly parts? What are we to make of the Frenchman who, visiting London, refers to this place as "Londres"? The positivism of Kripke rolled up against the shores of both the French (outsider) view, and the fact that not all of London is pretty.
What about Bracknell? One result of my 'tentative d'epuisement d'un lieu bracknellien' is that I am forced to visit all parts of the town (for it is not a city), even the 'unpretty' parts. It is also forcing me to challenge boundaries of what we think we know Bracknell is.
It is not a suburb of London. Bracknell is a 'new town' along the lines of Milton Keynes, meaning that it a more product of utopian design, and less a laissez-faire example of development. This is apparent in the many yellow/green routes and 'subways' (underpasses) that allow for easy movement of foot, bicycle, and motorised vehicular traffic.
Bracknell has rich and varied architecture, and it has both beautiful farmed and forested countrysides that almost completely surround the town. I would characterise Bracknell more as a market town (for its shopping) as well as a way-station for travellers who might stop at a pub or, indeed, for some shopping or to take in a movie.
I have yet to survey the centre part of town, but what is certain is that "Bracknell" refers to set of beliefs about a spatial construct that is 'not London' but is a satellite of the latter. It is a companion to its Berkshire-sister, Windsor, and sits in a historical residuum within the royal landscapes and activities thereof. Henry VIII himself was said to partake of recreation in the area.
In all my running around, I encountered today the locals out in their socially isolated glory as I ran up and down Jocks Lane, and navigated footpaths along the banks of a river referred to as 'The Cut'. It is a fairly large (for here) tributary to the Thames. I'm proud of the shape I made, for its suggestive angularity and its closed form. This took a bit of doing, and I'm finding that I'm running a bit more distance in order to attain the desired shape and aesthetic goals. I can kind of visualise them as I go, but I never actually know what the thing will look like until I'm done.
In other words I'm running without a map, and therefore without the belief that the map would instill in me, that I know what I'm doing, where I'm going, what is my goal. I can instead enjoy the intrinsic value of the run itself, of the unexpected object that will greet me when I open Strava at the end, when I get home.
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