There were three physical copies of Christina Haag’s Come to the Edge in our apartment already. My own is personally signed to me by its author; I bought one for my flatmate’s last birthday; the third is because on my first attempt at buying this present, I was sent one with a minor coffee stain on the pages. My flatmate might not have minded: she’s a dog-earer; that’s how she expresses her love of books. It is not, however, how I express mine. And this book deserves better than that. I got her a new one, but kept the old one for – well, I’m not sure what for, exactly.