As the books multiplied I saw your bright form bent over the table, and watched as your slender fingers braided the pages, and my thoughts began to drift into the wider Universe as I read, as if they were light or breath. I sounded my thoughts out in my mouth and sighed them to you, and you made them into an image on the page, and left space between where you could slip in. But when I wanted to sew it closed, it would not stay bound, and the pages scattered with the gusts of the Universe’s breath. I came to understand by these sensations that entering the book was also exiting it.

← book


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