The stallion pounded the ground with its hooves in a wild gallop, its horsewoman leaning over its neck. With no saddle or bit, the mount flew free, its mane in the wind. Nighttime enveloped the world ... [+]
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