Ever since 1979, I’ve been keeping track of the books I read, writing the author’s name and book title in long hand in a journal with lined pages and a blue cover. This year, I reached the final page, and I began to wonder what would happen when I filled it up. Maybe, as I wrote the very last entry, I would die?
I wrote the final entry on July 14.
Didn’t die.
On July 16, when I finished reading another book, I flipped the journal upside down and started making entries on the blank back side of the last page, figuring that I can keep going, back to front.
Now I wonder what that means. Maybe, as I write in reverse, I’ll regress?