Treasure, noun: Old French tresor; originating from the Gallo-Roman word tresaurus, meaning ‘treasury, hoard, treasure’, related to the Latin and Greek thesaurus. Replaced Old English goldhord.
Treasure, verb: ‘to amass treasure; to store up for the future’ also figurative, ‘regard as precious, retain carefully in the mind.’
Welcome to Panorama’s second Quarterly issue. Panorama exists to not only publish extraordinary diverse travel literature and imagery, but to widen the definition of what travel is. This Quarterly explores the idea of ‘treasure’ through travel-themed fiction, memoir, essays, poetry, photography, and illustrations.
For this issue, we’ve asked writers and image-makers to push the limits of how ‘treasure’ can be defined: what has value, what is found, what is lost, and how finding treasure -or not- changes them. We begin with magical illustrations by Spanish artist Marta Munoz, and a commentary on the duality of environmental degradation and the touristic fantasy of two of the landscapes of Rio, by Brazilian photographer Elsa Sereia Leyder.
Treasures launches a new sophisticated series on cartography, set in motion by British cartographer Anne Louise Avery’s essay on the history of treasure maps, which includes the narratives of women and people of colour. We’re also delighted to publish our second Emerging Writer, Alex Borgen, who offers up an experimental lyrical piece on moving through place.
From travel fiction by American writer Anna O’Brien that takes you from the berth of a ship to the Bay of Bengal, to Nigerian-American poet Uche Nduka’s stirring poem on identity paired with place, to British writer Holly Dawson’s irreverent wanderings in Cornwall, Panorama brings you the world.
One golden, windswept afternoon last summer, my six-year-old son, Indy, and I went searching for old Portuguese silver in the shingle and rock pools of Dollar Cove on the Lizard Peninsula in Cornwall, named for the number of coins washed up over the centuries.
Panorama‘s Emerging Writer Fund supports the work of writers whose work has never previously been published. It is funded entirely by donations from our readers, and we are thrilled to be showcasing Sometimes the Past Lingers by Alex Borgen in this issue.
FICTION AND NONFICTION
This is where you could have died when you were four. Your tiny body smashed against the tree trunk, your back bent into an impossible zigzag of broken bones, your ribs forced in all directions, your kneecaps catapulted to the back of your wriggling legs, your head cracked wide open like a pomegranate, its bloody seeds raining through the fissures of your skull onto the ground.