Here is a crazed thought at this time of night after a few beers.
I’ve spent some time, some months that is, pulling all my books off the bookshelves, attempting to catalogue them, then putting them back up in a more “sensible” order – I can nearly see my floor again.
Having done so, and looking at the bookshelves now, it seems that the order that I have put them in is affecting the organisation of my thinking. I have no idea what that is about right now, nor what it means.
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