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Reading 1 min read Eliza Marsh

Borges in December

Borges is a winter writer. The labyrinths feel warmer when there's frost on the window, and the libraries feel infinite in the way only a long dark evening can.

The library of Babel

I reread The Library of Babel every December. It is, I think, a story about hope disguised as a story about despair — the books exist, even if you will never find the one you’re looking for.

The garden of forking paths

Every choice is a small Borges story. You take one path and the others quietly continue without you.

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