 I brought a copy of a German book. It's by Rilke. The publisher is reclam. The cover is plain. It's just a color. And if you go to German bookstores, at least parts of them, they're actually organized by publishers. You probably know other countries in Europe sometimes. Like in Italy, too, in France. Yeah. And the books more or less all look the same. How do you feel about this system? I love them. So you would opt into this system for all of your books. Yeah. Well, I mean, I talk about that in the book. I mean, the whole piece is a kind of meditation on the idea of wearing a uniform and dressing yourself. And how these contradictory approaches to presenting oneself, what they mean. It's like you have to make a statement about where you've decided to rest on the identity question. And a cover forces your hand in a way you'd rather be hovering in this ambiguity. Yeah. I mean, I prefer this kind of cover because to me, there's a protective quality to the lack of specificity and the belonging to the series, which is what Europe... I mean, in the US, you have certain series as well. And in fact, I was thinking... I mean, I wrote the essay when I was in Rome and I was far away from my American library and my books and things. But now that I'm back here and I unpacked a lot of my books, I mean, there's certain presses here that have that aesthetic philosophy. City Lights books makes those beautiful little books of like my copy of Allen Ginsberg's Howl and et cetera. I mean, these are beautiful books, American books that all kind of looked the same, similar dimensions, have a kind of sober quality, a lot of emphasis on type. So I won't say that it doesn't happen here, but I think for like the average writer and the average publisher, it's a very different dialogue that's happening when it comes to putting a book... putting a cover onto a book. And so I think if I had to choose, I would choose that the safety of the uniform because of course, I mean, the whole piece, the whole little essay, whatever begins with the memory of being a child and being traumatized by having to dress myself, because it just churned up so many problems and was a source of true anguish for me as a child to have to put on my... to choose clothes and put them on. And this has economic ramifications, this has cultural ramifications, this has all sorts of ramifications because clothes are things we buy in stores and et cetera, et cetera. And so I had this sort of crazy envy, admiration, envy obsession with my cousin's school uniforms in Calcutta because they were all the same and they just put on what they had to wear to school every day and it was the same thing. And I dreamed about that. I dreamed of being able to wake up in the United States and just putting on my blue skirt and my white shirt and my black shoes and going to school and nobody commenting on what I was wearing because I was always so terrified because people were always commenting on what I was wearing and either teasing me or whatever. And so in that sense, I think there's this kind of... Where do you stand between wanting to express yourself and be free and being afraid of that freedom and being actually vulnerable to that freedom? I mean, I think America represents freedom with a big capital F and it always has and we hope it always will for the good. But there's also the danger of that in that even as a young girl in the 70s, as a kid, a child of immigrants, I knew what it meant to shop in one store versus another store. I saw what the girls in my class were wearing, the kinds of shoes, the kinds of purses. I knew that my parents weren't taking me to those stores that they thought that was a waste of money and that we're not going to pay all of this $40 for Nike sneakers or whatever it is because it's a waste and you're going to grow out of them in six months. Whereas my other schoolmates had these things and suddenly there was the gap between me and them reinforced by these things. And I think for a child, at least for me, these things were traumatizing and I imagine for others as well.