Rather, each can be reduced to a set of stimuli floating in space, never in one place at one time. Neither film nor literature exists as Object. Obviously, there's some overlap, a little play in the bones, but it’s more of a Venn diagram than a flowchart, a sort of private film that plays for each reader, renewed with each read, every scan a fresh translation. It’s like we’ve both seen a whale in the water at one point in our lives, and we’re trying to determine the shape of its eyes. When talking about a book with other people, I often wonder if we even read the same book-or, somehow, two things with the same title by the same author. Focusing, forgetting, glazing over, missing parallels, inventing others we embellish. In the eyes of science fiction author Ray Bradbury, the only crime worse than burning books is not reading them at all.
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