She sleeps like a dead weight now beside me, lowered into the night, the ropes of the day swaying around her. We know nothing about each other really. She does not know how often my ex-lover visits me ... [+]
Translated by Wendy Cross
All libraries should have these luminous corners. That space near the blinds, behind the section reserved for the Quattrocento; or that seldom frequented mezzanine, obstructed by boxes and half-built shelving; or else that place you find only once, just once, by chance, when you are looking for a book on Klee and you end up in the section devoted to the Nordic novel; those corners where stories throb and dust dances; where extraordinary friendships can be born. The Carter-Collins Library is overflowing with hidden staircases leading to tiny rooms furnished only with cushions; staircases which