Yesterday she received a book in the mail that she had ordered herself but didn’t remember ordering. It was a lovely book, by someone she had never heard of, and the color of the book was a color she had never seen before. When she flipped to the end of the book, she noted that the page number was a number she wasn’t familiar with, and the weight of the book was interesting, although she wasn’t certain if it was heavy or light. When she closed the book, she was not certain what the best thing to do with a book might be - although she enjoyed closing it, and then opening it, and then closing it again, and then opening it again, and then looking at the color, and the name of the author, and then feeling the weight. She also enjoyed throwing the book, which she did, across the room, into a giant mirror. She liked looking at the mirror because it had a book in it as well, although she hadn’t noticed a book in the mirror before. This mirror usually just had her in a dress in it, and she was smiling and wearing white roses it seems and she would like for somebody to take a picture if they could.