Though it doesn't look like it, this is a fudge. The title of the book is _Is 5_, not _Is_. If anyone knows of a book -- any book -- called _Is_, please let me know. This one might be a fudge; I'm not sure whether the title is _Moving_ or _What About Moving_. I think it's just _Moving_. I hope so. its A fudge, because apparently no one yet has written a book called _Slow_. Inconceivable! A book entitled _Slow Thighs_ would be even better. Calling all erotica writers... A fudge. I would have thought there would be more than one book called _Thighs_. I think I could write a book called _Thighs_. I'll bet I could. If I wrote erotica, you can bet it would be entitled _Slow Thighs_., A fudge, because the title is _a while_, while what we want is _While_. Is there such a book? So close! If not for that word *Read*, this would not be a fudge.

Got any books that would fit into the project (such as Can, by Jan Voss,
or books with titles such as Of or The)?
Here's how you can help.

Also: The Second Coming has arrived at MySpace, for some odd reason.

The Second Coming
By W.B. Yeats
William Butler Yeats

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction; the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand;
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.

The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?