Chapter X
"I have a copy here," Mark had continued. From the nearby bookcase to his right, he had taken a thin quarto size volume of very modest appearance, cover in pale brown strong paper with no images, my name at the top, centered, superimposed in a dark brown color, and below it the title Poems of Serene Love and, further down, Tipografia Sonar Lugano. Inside, the pages that looked to be of poor recycled paper, were thin and the same color as the cover. My bibliography was on the back cover, copied word for word from my last book and the citation of the latter was missing: an oversight that certainly would not have happened to me the author. It was clear that the work was not published but only made typographically and, as it stated inside, that the author had curated the printing an
