And there is bark beneath your fingers. Readable, the way Braille is readable - as long as you have a mirrored codex living under your skin. And in a forest, with book upon book, a formed library, perhaps cathedral - in various states of growth and decay. They are one thing, they are another, mirrored growth and decay. Books slipping off of branches, off shelves - slipping under eager fingers, toes, claws and bodies, pressing knowledge from one skin to another.