The Life of a Book

        The object we call a book is not the real book, but its potential, like a musical score or seed. It exists fully only in the act of being read; and its real home is inside the head of the reader, where the symphony resounds, the seed germinates. A book is a heart that only beats in the chest of another.

                - Quotation from Rebecca Solnit’s essay “Flight”  (excerpted by Maria Popova).

[Picture: Reading, mini block print by AEGN, 2017 (sold out).]