A year ago I found Joseph Pintauro's The Rabbit Box in a rubbish bin at the Alameda flea market. I remember the date, April 6th, because I was suffering from a particularly bad broken heart and the book's surreal message of Springtime resurrection was a great comfort to me. It is the most cherished book I own. HERE is the original post.
How fitting that I receive The Magic Box almost exactly a year later. It's beautiful, just like The Rabbit Box, with colorful, irreverent imagery by Norman Laliberte. The subject matter- death, autumn, reflection- is particularly relevant to my cancer experience. Oh, to someday collect all four.
This little passage in particular spoke to me, probably because of all of those smiles shared with friends on roller coasters. I can't think of any feeling so worthy of remembering. Love and roller coasters, that's all one really needs.
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