Countless Writers with Countless Legs.

Countless Writers with Countless Legs.

If you think you’ve already seen everything, — wait for it! Wandering around on the Frankfurt Book Fair is an exploratory tour per excellence. Because suddenly — amidst the digital innovations and the faithful facsimile of Voynich manuscript, amidst the AR/VR/MR/PR, amidst that Babylonian confusion of tongues — you suddenly stumble upon this strange book.

The book contains poems, short stories, and an accurate table of contents.

But in which language is it written? It’s neither Chinese, nor Japanese, nor any other tongue I know.

An artificial language à la Codex Seraphinianus or Voynich?
Wrong.
Asemic writing?
Nope.
Coded writing?
Not at all.

What is it? Who wrote it?

Beetles. Spiders. And other insects.