Sunday mornings are for ancestors and revolutionaries, Swift instant kopi, Across the Horizon ambience. This book is good. I love that Crabapple replays the archive in technicolor and makes this a work of creative (auto) non-fiction. This past is the bill we forgot to pay -- we can run right back around the corner. Something about analog worlds is nearly ASMR palpable pulp of the book spine, pages, the new book smell of a Marxist pamphlet hidden in a jacket, discovered and changing the course of one's life, new jack city. This is breast milk.