the labyrinth is not a place but a procedure for reading. every door is the first sentence of a paragraph. the library is the bibliography. the basement is the footnotes. you, the reader, are also a footnote, attached to nobody's text in particular.
— or — to misread?to enter is to begin to be entered. the labyrinth turns a corner of itself for every step you take. you turn a corner of yourself in return. eventually it becomes difficult to tell which of you is hosting which.
— this was the part i loved mostthis is why the catalogue is fragmentary. no complete enumeration is possible without participating in what is being enumerated; no participation leaves an enumeration intact. the catalogue grows from the reading of itself.
— compare hextureturn the page. the page is also marginal — to the page after it, and to you, and to the moon, and to every visitor who has ever annotated it before you.