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224 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2020
With your face covered, sneaking into a city you thought you knew, are you still yourself ? Or have you crossed to another world, where the streets are unpredictable and the people strangers, where you might at any moment run into some unknown dream version of yourself ? I’m thinking of Walter Benjamin’s obsession with the Parisian arcades. For him, they were a bygone world, a dreamscape divorced from reality, but precisely in that dialectic between dreaming and waking, at the point where the material world and one’s innermost being meet, the past suddenly opens wide to the present and, for a split second–for a ksana, that Buddhist notion of the smallest possible moment–we attain the state of awakening.
Do Not Enter. Do Not Run. Do Not Proceed. Do Not Retreat. Do Not Talk. Do Not Anything, Everything Is Forbidden.

Love is blind, as the saying goes. Although, in the case of Professor Q, it would be more accurate to say that love had rearranged his vision.
Lately, he seemed to have been sleeping for increasingly extended periods. He would fall silent during meals, his head bowed as though intently contemplating the cauliflower florets in his soup, and she would know that he was sound asleep. In those moments he looked meek an innocent, and she clung to the sad yet at the same time consoling thought that andropause had come for him. Old age was nigh.