There is a particular kind of reader who refuses the urgency of modernity. Who turns the page not to reach the ending, but to linger in the middle — in the unresolved, the beautiful, the uncertain place where all good literature lives.
There is a particular kind of reader who refuses the urgency of modernity. Who turns the page not to reach the ending, but to linger in the middle — in the unresolved, the beautiful, the uncertain place where all good literature lives.