I sit at my station at work, hands leafing through the pages of the well-worn book once again, seeing the thick pen underlining key phrases, words that leaped out off the page and into my heart. Reds criss-crossed with blues, the occasional black or green making scant appearances, racing in ugly, hastily-drawn rays across the densely filled spaces. Only twenty pages to go. Dog-eared edges, tops all flattened out where my place had been marked, bottoms still bent to signify passages of ...