The poetic fragment of a title antiqued by the gentle readerly touch of each, now anonymous person who came under it’s spell, seduced by the hand-bound spine and articulate font, indelibly inked…
A weathered book invokes, suggests, promises. It represents a continuity of human experience that is far beyond printed words. It whispers: thoughts and experience sculpted more or less, but always inlaid with imagination. And a book is transportation. Open its cover and walk through.
Books, like thoughts and the authors that wrote them, slowly unbind and return to dust. This piece is an exploration of that sense of history, of memory writ, of a rich, slightly musty, damp-paper scent, the imprint’s subsequent fading, the layering of experience upon experience, utterance over utterance, that fertilizes the ground for the birth of a limitless future.
