In a book, my favourite images are usually hidden. The books are all on their shelves. I don’t have books lying around, their images exposed (ever since one of the cats once threw up on an Alfred Steichen book [a possible sign that her taste is strictly contemporary, but I don’t want to overinterpret things] I am a bit careful with books). If I want to see an image, I go and open the book, and then… there it is. It’s almost a bit like as if it was newly revealed, and I can look at it again.
