I’m loving the idea of dropping Inks into the stores. Big box of black books in the back of the bat mobile. It just feels right. I’m meeting some great folks—like Meaghan and Mark from Shearer’s on Norton—people who don’t flinch at incoming, this strange mama with her stash of monster books. Times are good again for this kind of thing, for what lies below—’fragments of trajectories and alterations of spaces’—and while I know that one day my books will roll in on eighteen wheelers, big black rigs swarming with holographic butterflies, or yeah, flown in maybe. Airlifted from the Knopf helipad onto the rooftops of Transbooks Global, but you know I can imagine myself kind of missing this. The end of the beginning.