Books

So many books. Damn you paper and ink. Glue and string. Where did you start? How did you start? What is the inspiration? Has everyone a story to tell? So many rhetorical questions. But also ones which have no meaning. How does anything start? Perhaps with perseverance and discipline. But what is the subject? Is the subject also the object? And the object an obsession. But what obsesses me in this emptiness? My state discontented.