Unpacking Books Is A Revelatory Activity.

Each Book Was A World Unto Itself, And In It I Took Refuge.

Existing Libraries, In Their Very Being, Seem To Question The Authority Of Those In Power.

In The Dark, With The Windows Lit And The Rows Of Books Glittering, The Library Is A Closed Space, A Universe Of Self-serving Rules That Pretend To Replace Or Translate Those Of The Shapeless Universe Beyond.

A Writer Stops Writing The Moment He Or She Puts The Last Full Stop To Their Text, And At That Point The Book Is In Limbo And Doesn't Come To Life Until The Reader Picks It Up And The Reader Flips The Pages.

The Association Of Books With Their Readers Is Unlike Any Other Between Objects And Their Users.