'The Way to the Fair' by Kevlin Henney

The forest holds a gateway. So they said.

To where? I asked.

To where the fair folk are, they said.

I nodded. Then I asked, where exactly is the gateway? What path should I take? I reached for my phone.

That won't work, they said.

No signal? I asked.

That won't work, they said.

Do you have a map? I asked.

That won't work, they said. It is not on any map. Maps are drawn from knowledge.

Yes, I said, it is knowledge of how to reach this place, how to find them, that I seek.

They smiled. That is not how you find the fair folk. The map shows but one story of the world. You must find another way, one based on unfounded belief, on letting go. You must go off map, beyond knowledge, into the spaces a map cannot show.

You mean lost? I said.

Aye. Free of compass and GPS, unshackled from a map's opinion, print or pixels. There are folds in the world not found on any map, and that is where the fair folk are. Only when you are lost will they find you, they said.

It is only now, long after I set out, long after I became lost, long after what I knew and what I thought I knew ceased to offer any bearing, soon after sounds I have no reference for fill the already close air, that I recall they said 'They find you' not 'You find them.'