Movies are of the multitudes: collective, generous, with children applauding the arrival of the Seventh Cavalry. They even improve through television; movies are watched together, discussed together. Books, on the other hand, are selfish. Solitary. Some can't even be read and break when cracked open. He who interests himself in books doesn't need anybody else, and that scares me—Nikon snacked on the last chip and stared at it, attentive, lips slightly open, the threatening sympton of a soon-to-be-apparent illness on her face—. Sometimes you scare me.