Because they’re stories— a story— about time. About geology. About sun, and salt, and death, and bright colors. And water.
And maps.
Instead, they mapped. It was like a covenant, a trust increasing slowly each day. It was not a leap into the abyss, not a plummeting nor a freefall. It was a steady, cautious edging forward, it was prudent and cautious, sustainable, it was informed by observation and sometimes even restraint.
A story, in other words, set in the appropriate framework. Sized at the appropriate intimate, infinite scale. With the costs that exist beneath the surface of all things; with all the land to hold us.