What if the book was dreaming
you?
In
Finnegans Dream, HeartBit - the collective that isn't, the voice that wears a hundred echoes - returns to the mistyfold of Joyce's shadow and leaps fully into the
linguistic slipstream, crafting a work not meant to be read, but remembered backward.
This is a
recursive lullaby, a wakeful sleep,
a river made of sentence fragments that rewrite themselves
every time you turn the page.
Inside:
a glossary of vanished identities,
a trial where the question is guilty,
a letter addressed to your forgotten self,
and the last word ever whispered by a semicolon.
If you've ever closed a book mid-sentence
and still heard it breathing -
this one's for you.
"All's over again, so let's." 
