Right now, somewhere in Kosmos…

    Alison {pointing at the dummy}
The amnesiac?
The effigy?
The eccentric?
The uselessness?
The beloved object?
The perverse library?
The desire?
The fever?
The puppet?
The romance?
The rumor?
The temperature?
The biographer?
The colophon?
The display?
The reed pipe?
The Mississippi?
The papyromaniac?
The medusa trap?
The insomniac prince?
The novelist?
The secret?
The syndrome?
The time?
The thief?
The journey?
The plastic balls?
The machines?
The solid objects?
The answers?
The ribbons?
The bookworms?
The California Room?
The bliss?
The lintel?


    Andy {looking into your eyes}
For you who stole a book, let it change into a serpent in your hand and rend you. May you be struck by palsy and all your members blasted. May you languish in pain, crying aloud for mercy and may there be no surcease to your agony till you sink to dissolution. May bookworms gnaw your entrails and at last… you end up like Stephen!

    Ulises {carrying-on}
Bookworks or bookworms?

    The wind {through the leaves}
A worm could be silent.
A worm could make noise, like a ghost.
Here it is.
Here it isn’t.
It’s real.
It is truth.
It is fabricated.
It is a lie.
You believe it.
You don’t.
It exists.
It doesn’t.

Look at you!

    Alison {knows}
A hole? 🕳 It’s for digging.
Paper? It’s for gardening 🕳
A hole? 🕳 Maybe we could hide things?
A hole? It’s for reading through 🕳🕳

    Andy {worm hole}
We must call vertigo every attraction of which the first effect is to surprise and stupefy the instinct of self-preservation. The being finds himself swept towards his ruin and seems persuaded by the very vision of his own annihilation not to resist the power which has seduced him with dread. This force robs one of the strength to say no, when reflection would provide a basis for intelligent thought and free choice.

    Stephen {Blumberg}
After a time the “earlids” began to close. That is, all sounds assumed a drone quality — the first sign of approaching sleep. Arousing myself somewhat, I noticed that the sounds were displaying an organization — the organization of living things. Each was an instrument within the library. Each was made with its own unique sounds. I was very much entertained, and a smile came to my face. Hunger was getting the best of me.

    Marcel {free trunk}
The watch is a liar!
Give up your toast!
Give up your lawn!
Give up your neighbors!
Give up your car!
Give up your appointments!
Give up your wallet!
Give up your laundry!
Give up Google Maps!
Give up your eyelids!
Quit shaving!
Lose your bearings!
Leave H₂O behind!
Go read!


And all of them knew that the beauty of life is there, floating near each being, ready in all its plenitude, but that it is disguised, buried in the depths of the fibers, in the stomachs of worms, expressive like a blank dummy.