1974. Kaunas. That was the year when this book got published. Just think - somebody took time and effort to put it together. Somebody thought it was good and bought it. Possibly read it. Underlined words. Thought about it. Made notes.
And it has all become useless now. Discarded. Baby has outgrown the clothes.
The memory of that time and that truth have become faint and fragile. Disintegrating in mind, burning in flames, rotting away in basements.
In my case - sitting in the boxes and blocking the room.
Well - yesterday this first proper book came out of the kiln. There are a number of things I do not like and I will be changing. On the whole, it is heading the right direction. It will certainly be all white (I was considering gold and black) - like a face without blood. The book will certainly be fired on the tablet. There will be no glaze.
I am taking books, that no longer have the society that supports them (uh! I have got a barn full of them!) and I reduce them to an immensely fragile state - so fragile, that they may disintegrate in hands - just like the memory of the times, that they represent.
