Afterward, in bed with a book, the spell of television feels remote compared to the journey into the page. To be in a book. To slip into the crease where two pages meet, to live in the place where your eyes alight upon the words to ignite a world of smoke and peril, color and serene delight. That is a journey no one can end with the change of a channel. Enduring magic.

The Way the Crow Flies