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			<h1>Borges</h1>
			<p style="margin-top:60px;">Argentinian writer Borges have said, "I have always imagined that paradise will be a kind of library." He have also said, there was once map that was so comprehensive that it covered the entire earth surface, to which it was representative of.</p>

			<p>I nearly confused Borges to be the writer of The Invisible City, and realized it's written by Calvino. I probably established this connection because Calvino's If on a Winter's Night a Traveller, through which a reader will read into  a reader's experience reading a book called If on a Winter's Night a Traveller. It was this recursivity that I connected Borges and Calvino together.</p>

			<p>Another two writers with unique writing structures are <a href="pnin.html">Nabokov</a> and <a href="claude_simon.html"> Claude Simon</a>.
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        		<p>Recursion Diagram</p>
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			<h1>Excerpts from <cite>The Garden of Forking Paths</cite></h1>

			<p>"Are you going to Dr. Stephen Albert's house?" Without waiting for my 
			answer, another said: "The house is a good distance away but you won't get lost if 
			you take the road to the left and bear to the left at every crossroad."</p>

			<p>The advice about 
			turning always to the left reminded me that such was the common formula for 
			finding the central courtyard of certain labyrinths. I know something about 
			labyrinths. Not for nothing am I the greatgrandson of Ts'ui Pen. He was Governor of 
			Yunnan and gave up temporal power to write a novel with more characters than 
			there are in the Hung Lou Meng, and to create a maze in which all men would lose 
			themselves. He spent thirteen years on these oddly assorted tasks before he was 
			assassinated by a stranger. His novel had no sense to it and nobody ever found his 
			labyrinth. </p>

			<p>Differing from 
			Newton and Schopenhauer, your ancestor did not think of time as absolute and 
			uniform. He believed in an infinite series of times, in a dizzily growing, ever spreading 
			network of diverging, converging and parallel times. This web of time - the strands of 
			which approach one another, bifurcate, intersect or ignore each other through the 
			centuries - embraces every possibility. We do not exist in most of them. In some 
			you exist and not I, while in others I do, and you do not, and in yet others both of us 
			exist. </p>

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