You’d read enough Borges to know that wandering into a strange library alone was an ill-advised move, but you couldn’t resist this time around. Its gates exuded that incense of savory dust unique to the most ancient of tomes (which is, perhaps, the most tangible manifestation of wisdom known to mankind). From outside, it resembled a cave as much as it did a temple; you found it hard to determine whether the entrance was lined with stalactites, or columns, or teeth.

The walls within felt as though they were wrought from alligator leather, and the shelves seemed to exude their own sweat. All throughout, the air was humid and tropical; there were even blankets of fog sweeping their way across the checkerboard floor. Membranous windows as thin as dragonfly wings allowed light to slither its way through the upper levels. Every now and then, there was a sound like a great exhalation taking place, and the hallways would warp and twist in response.

Eventually, you arrived in a room where numerous books dangled from the ceiling by long, black vines. In an act of unfortunate haste, you grabbed the lowest-hanging fruit and tore it from its stem. Ink begins spraying from the wound profusely; you gripped the spine tightly in an attempt to stop its bleeding, but the pressure was immense, and it quickly began leaking through your fingers. Whatever knowledge was contained inside wouldn’t last for much longer.

As it turned out, that book was a biography, and it was written about you. As its black blood drained away, words began disappearing from its first few pages. It was full of memories that you’d lost along the way somewhere, and they were quickly being forgotten for the second time. With no hope of recovering your earliest history, you skipped ahead to the final chapter; at the very least, you could find out how it all ends.

“They eventually made the mistake of wandering into a wild library,” read the last paragraph. “All the information in their brain was slowly digested and converted into a patchwork of biographies, encyclopedias, and fiction. They wandered throughout its living halls for the rest of their days, frantically trying to stuff their past back into their mind. As madness and starvation set in, they began filling their stomach with it instead.”