Books Are Slow, Books Are Quiet. The

Books Are Slow, Books Are Quiet. The Internet Is Fast And Loud.

[...]it Is As If After Surviving So Much, There Was No Longer Reason To Survive.

Only A Few Months Into Our Marriage," Writes The Grandfather, "we Started Marking Off Areas In The Apartment As 'nothing Places,' In Which One Could Be Assured Of Complete Privacy, We Agreed That We Never Would Look At The Marked-off Zones, That They Would Be Nonexistent Territories In The Apartment In Which One Could Temporarily Cease To Exist.

Grandfather Kicked The Stop Pedal, And My Face Gave A High-five To The Front Window.

The Secret Was A Hole In The Middle Of Me That Every Happy Thing Fell Into.