From the introduction
Written language seems to me a landscape. Land bound up in words. I pick up stones or rocks in travel as texts that I can read.
There is a map you open like a book. There are books you open like a map.
There is a map you decide to call a book. A book of territories you’ve traveled. A book of the in-between places you’ve lived. A map is a meaning you hold against the unknowing. The places you speak in many directions…