sometimes i read these beautiful books, and all i can think about is how much another person i know would love this book so much more than i. often i do the right thing and gift the book to them, and the beautiful book then has a more suitable new home, in which it is cherished in its right place. but what do i do when such a person and i no longer speak? once, i was lucky enough to know and still be in possession of his mailing address, and so i sent the book anyway, without a card. because, ultimately, it’s about the story and the characters in the pages, and not about our awkwardness. but some other times, i am not so lucky and i don’t have an address — like tonight. where in the world are you? are you happy, are you well? did you know that the Borders where we used to read on Sundays no longer exists? if we played that game where we read out our favorite lines in a book, what would happen? and then, there is that thing about addresses, and how no one ever stays in the same place anymore.