I give everything away and it goes away, into the dusty air, onto the face of the water that goes away beyond our seeing. I give everything away that has been given to me: the voices of children under clouds, the men in the parks at the chess tables, the women entering and leaving bakeries. God who came here by rock, by tree, by bird. All things silent in my seeing. All things believable in their leaving. Everything I have I give away and it goes away.
The Voracious Bibliophile 