Dream of walking through a tunnel to sit at a table laden with books. French people were milling about. I saw grafitti about the war which troubled me greatly, but I turned my attention back to the books, which were cloth and canvas, like the kind of masekhthoth they were putting out in the 60's, but appeared much older, damaged. Inside were woodcuts of subtely wrong animals. The books were opened, set aside, opened, set aside.