A copy of the old Swuare One accompanies the new book because its form, almost conventional, at least very readable, contrats so very obviously with the absence of all that in the new book. This is the greatest kick I get from the whole thing: seeing myself produce a book nobody will evern attempt to read, or better, nobocy will need to read, because to know about it is enough. Those who find their reading has become too speedy or too slow or get confused what is what, may consider the book stand's appearance. I see it as a paradise island. Here speed is not relative to the lack of time. Can one call it ones ambition to get back to where one came from, wouldn’t that happen anyway? I would like to remind those who sense a lack of purpose in the description of an arbitrarily zigzagging journey that purpose often travels as a stowaway.

Ref: GB/13610