As I look over my own shelf, I see my life pass before my eyes. The memories grafted onto each volume become stirred and awakened by a glance at the spine, which presents itself to be touched, opened, and explored. Without the bookshelf’s landscape to turn to, that manifest remainder from a lifetime of reading, how would one think?
In Defense of The Memory Theater | Open Letters Monthly – an Arts and Literature Review
Monday, January 3rd, 2011 at 11:21 pm