A framing customer comes from New Haven and brings me a gift, a book of poetry. She’s done this before. She is a creative writing teacher at Yale and knows my own passions.
I ramble on about Calvino. I rant on hypertext. I make her take the link to A Bottle of Beer and make her promise to read it. I hint with no subtlety that hypertext belongs in her curriculum. I cannot help the fire that seems to singe most of my audience and yet I see a hopeful spark ignite her eye. She understands the chain of memory mimicked by the human mind.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology