Voices, manuscripts come out of drawers and onto shelves, move through this or that checkpoint, take a journey across a physical or political boundary.

Somersaults in time move dated texts in and out of currency, back from the future and forward from what’s long been scripted and set. Timelessness of everything now cheats the death of the book and bookishness, preserving without judgment but not without prejudice.

Daggers, crosses and stars direct the reader to another meaning, to the recently or never dead.  The many crossing points in the text, print not linear, betray the hypertext not so free, scheming like the cookie monsters of the now so structured web.  Spiders with plans.