My own experience of place is fundamentally linked to my pursuit of writing novels. I've canoed down the Green River, wandered the docklands and warehouses of London and explored abandoned mines in Leadville, Colorado, all in an attempt to anchor the world of my fiction to actual places. In every case, my hope has been to rescue a narrative from the dubious faith we often place in fictive realms. Historically, the novel is an urban phenomenon, though its evolution in the 19th and 20th centuries carried it across oceans to every corner of the globe. The former fuels narrative with gossip and secrets, the latter with the power of the unknown.
Most novels partake a little of both, and do so through the imagination of place.
Needless to say, then, I have no interest in the presumed deconstruction of place achieved by cyberspace. Just as any art form gains power by focus, so any experience worth having as an experience is conditioned by necessities of place and time, and harnessed to the personal. Those future trends most likely to flourish, of course, are the ones we can't foresee. Newspapers, historically linked to real places, are doomed to extinction, we are told, and so are printed books. As for novels and poems, we'll find them on the Web.