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The universe is made of stories, not atoms. —Muriel Rukeyser

As time is passing by and bringing cooler and more humid weather I start to think that addiction to books might serve me good this time. I live in a basement in the house on the peak of the hill. Sun rays conquer my cell between 9 and 12 in the morning, the time when I sleep. The rest of the day crawls in the shadow. Warm tea and bunch of unread books just gives me a time to relieve the stress, not that I have something to stress about, but just because I am very good at making up problems. And yes, bunch of unread books, just because I'm collecting books more passionately than reading them . However the thing is, it is a perfect time to read. And go for a beer in the evening. And read while riding a bus. And read while riding a bus back to the top of the hill. 

Just got out of Castaneda's peyote delusional hallucinations and long hours trying to "see" and feel the seeing as a shamanistic power. Not long after that Herman Hesse's "The Glass Bead Game"  dragged me into the marbles rolling in the musical environment of a growing genius Joseph Knecht. I'll stay here for a bit. And like somebody said "God made man because he loves stories", if it is too cold to go out and create a story by yourself, get a book. 

Good Books has a brilliant campaign and brilliant sense when to publish it as well. 

Mystified and soaked black Metamorphosis animation of a harrying need to have Kafka...

...and boiling blood hot Havana Heat for ladies who are still counting the shades of grey autumn skies...

When I'll finish reading Hesse, maybe you'd recommend something for me?

If not, meet you in bed. Here's the most comfortable place to read for now. 

Bridget Collins

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