Dictionary

In itself, a dictionary is like a Möbius strip a self defining object of one surface only, collecting and explaining without claiming a narrative third dimension.

A dictionary is then a collection of touchstones, marking points in an inconmensurable web whose individual nature remains unknow tous but whose constellations allow us a glimpse, however brief, however slight, of the machinery of the universe where everything we lose is gathered and everything we forget is remembered.

Dictionaries are catalogues of definitions. An anthology, a hierarchical catalogue, a philological theasures, a parallel memory, a writing and reading tool.

If books are our records of experience and libraries our depositories of memory, a dictionary is our talisman against oblivion.