I remember watching them burn like moths whose wings got too close to the flame. The thrill was even enough to pull neighbors from their wall screens. As I look back on those times, I wonder how many authors are lost because of me. How many ideas will never be heard? Out of entire burning libraries, I always chose one book to save. What makes one more important than the others? Why did I read the Book of Job? There is already another man who has it memorized. My little value is lost…
And yet, they let me stay.