At night – I may feel tiredness at a certain point during the night – the night brain activates, which is completely different from the day brain. Perhaps it emerges precisely through the slackening of bodily function. I paced up and down in front of my wall of books; if I approached them closely, there were many, if I stepped back a little, I noticed above all the absence of those books that were not yet there. I notice this absence because there is still a wall to be seen. I struggle to sleep through the night – after all, a dream is not guaranteed. But a night without a dream would be wasted, so the substitute, the safe substitute, has to be reading. Not the linear sequence of lines, but flying through eye-catching volumes that offer themselves through their slight protrusion, the breaking of the clean line.
