This is a prose poem about reading--a playful, epigrammatic nocturne upon the dream-state one falls into when lost in a book, and the uncanny, trancelike pleasure of making silent marks on paper utter sounds inside one's head. A meditation on reading, the book goes both far and deep, resisting easy summary and classification.
An expansive, learned, and utterly charming reverie on what it means to be lost in a book
