Fragment: Time of making marks of molding your palm in wet concrete fingers outstretched tagging a wall leaving a penny on a step a sealed letter a small prank a packet of old letters.

My library is full of books that are quite beyond my capacity, and my family and friends will praise my folly and wonder… what about the time you could be running or swimming or creating new structures but they (the books) speak to me as I walk by, they inspire, they feed an aspiration, they represent value, influence style, they reassure and challenge and work change quietly through a basic awareness of the utter miracle of consciousness and the phenomenon of language.

Plus I’m kind of lazy.

But the hour is invaluable and even a sentence can contain the music of the spheres so why not?

You who spent your days in a bookstore will know what I’m saying. You will know exactly.