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I kept asking myself how a book could be infinite. I could not imagine any other than a cyclic volume, circular. A volume whose last page would be the same as the first and so have the possibility of continuing indefinitely.

It was exciting to join a group here devoted to short stories. And perhaps timely as well. January is the time we press ourselves to expand and possibly grow in some vaguely constructive manner. This story while very familiar (and often opaque) almost serves as an anathema to our hopeful custom. Borges understood the interstices even if peevishly he only offers a sidelong view before slamming the door. I appreciate the pursuit, the cubist rationalization and the nearly whispered consideration of the protean, the potentially parallel. Hopefull I can find a time sequence today where I can situate this in relation to The Aleph and perhaps the Jon in that sequence will be inspired to leave an account of the reconciliation?