(A sizeable chunk of you are New Yorkers, and so I'll leave this note here for the moment.)
I'll be leading something of a troglodytic story circle in a Brooklyn bookshop two weeks from now.
Reading and discussion of Cedar Toothpick at the estimable (and scrappily independent) Community Bookstore of Park Slope in Brooklyn, New York.
Thursday, March 7 at 8 p.m.
Having decided that the inner polog of Community's late-winter yaranga—which is to say its cozy back room—is the best of all possible cocoon-spaces in which to incant stories, I will be carrying the remainder of Cedar's first edition across the ocean in my steamer trunk.
Cedar will be read by candlelight, after which I'll trundle on for a bit about creating books collaboratively and from scratch—and getting (happily) cut in the process.
A book. A story. A story about a book. Some shrew beer, dandelion wine. Maybe, if we're lucky, a wickedly grinning Cheshire Cat perched atop the brick wall bordering Community's garden, and lion-to-lamb zephyrs allowing us to swing open the back doors, invite in the toads.
Community Bookstore, by the way, is at 143 7th Avenue, between Carroll and Garfield. B/Q to 7th Avenue, F to other 7th Avenue, 2/3 to Grand Army, or M/R to Union Street. Unless the lines have changed since I moved to Poland thirty-three months ago.
(Photographs by Johan Österholm.)