Laden with the magic of childhood like donuts are covered in powdered sugar this simple tale about the creation of a book is less about story and impact than about mood, memory and remembrance, not about how things are so much as how they seem and a patina of wonder settles over you, the blanket over your head as a child and wondering what all those sounds are out there. The story is a slight and wistful thing, a snowflake melting on your palm, but one that chose to fly to you.