Guest blogger : Daniel Koplitz
As I cradle the book in my hands, flecks of its leathered paper-board cover release into the free air. Carried affectionately like dandelion wisps in the summer breeze, the flecks disperse from the margins of their centuries-old home and, fearing nothing, return to the very dust of matter from which they were born. I’m reminded in this seeing and feeling of my own mortality, my impermanent nature. I recognize myself in these flecks, not knowing how or why but that we are undeniably connected.