Floyd

Through a crack in the roof, the morning chill trickles like frosty lemon verbena leaves, leaving camphor-freezing pinpricks on the purple lavender bedspreads. An umbrella of silky white blossoms floats in the slant of the shivering...

Far away from the last windows, where no daylight can ever penetrate, in the soul of ancient libraries, the labyrinth of dusty shelves, at the end of worn stairs and creaking floorboards, seemingly endless corridors, a bookbinder lives in the shadow...