When I was stateless and had to move around Europe swiftly and secretly, I brought only a few, small books. The one I never left behind, during three years of this condition, was Frank O’Hara’s Lunch Poems. It saved my life. The second chapter in this story, my revision, is that this book saved a friend too. His copy is in my photo.
This is a test story that has been placed here so we can figure out how to make the website work properly. If you have a real story that’s about a book, it will be posted similarly to this one, but with your real text. Thanks, The GOAT PoL
8 July, 2022