The book in your hands contains only two pages. Its cover is thick, made of black-lacquered wood.
The image on the cover represents a gray key to a door of a house that no longer stands. You still own the key the cover represents.
On the back, the pattern of a quaint, worn carpet is represented.
You open the book. You look at page two, right side, first. There is a reproduced photograph of your face. Under the photograph appears the word, "You."
On page one, left side, is a color reproduction of a woman's face. It is severe, her face, but not disturbing. The hair, cut short, is a color called "red," but the hair is really a kind of orange. Some of it is brown.
The book was and remains a gift. You close it. You think, "That was not bad, not bad at all. Satisfying, even." It has given you a lot to think about.