Autumn

I was still in the middle of something and always will be.

A very moving letter to his soon-to-be-born daughter, then a few short essays about daily scenes and objets. I found some sentences very poetic and well written, but was soon brought back to what this book really is: stories of driving through dozens of frogs, killing a colony of wasps, peeing in his pants when he was a teen, or how many times he peed since he was born. I stopped reading after 27% of the book, especially knowing that he will soon move on to the art of vomiting or how to hide your chewing gum in your hand in public places...