The day has finally arrived. My extra-large book has finally been marked as such, and in Roman numerals, as well. In ten short years, it will turn just large, thus defying all the laws of physics. Or is it literature? Be that as it may, Book M is never to be, but moving from large to medium would surely be fun. Defying gravity, as it were. As luck would have it, Book S is simply inconceivable in Roman numerals. No matter how hard I tried, my book could never get to be small. Alas!

Addendum (January 1, 2025)

A decade later, Book L is here for true (“Book L,” January 1, 2025). And I am delighted through and through. Half a century of ceasless scribbling… At this stage of my life, though, I can only hope that my writing project will be brought to completion within a few years. Say, before I turn eighty-five and become old old (“This Categorization,” February 29, 2012). It is anyone’s guess what will become of my brain by then, which is why wrapping my Residua up is an eminently practical measure. Be that as it may, I am over the moon with my magnum opus, which has become my main concern ever since my retirement from teaching and research. Actually, my mania (“A Monomaniac,” January 5, 2020). Alleluia!