I’m in a library. There are many books around me. Some are on the floor. Others are littered over tables. There’s an organization to the stacks, but I don’t know it. They aren’t arranged by height or colour or any particular pattern I can recognize. I open one book and it’s in a language I don’t know. Another: the same thing. I keep flipping and flipping until I find one that is incredibly large – it’s pages are the size of my chest – and it’s heavy. I use both hands to open the nameless cover and find small slivers of text sprawling across the thin pages. Each line is so close together that they practically can’t be distinguished. But I squint my eyes, draw the edge of my finger to the first line, and read: “Learn.”
I spend the rest of my life reading this one tome. I don’t get past page 83.