One of those fine afternoons when you wander into a dusty bookstore in an unfamiliar city and come across a book by a writer you don’t know, but it harmonizes with the noises in your head and leaves you wondering about the lines between randomness, serendipity, and synchronicity.
![Somnambulist](/content/images/size/w1600/wordpress/2022/04/Somnabulist-scaled.jpeg)