C.S. Lewis writes prose that borders on the poetic. He captures the struggle we each face when we question our place in this mortal world and our relationship with the spiritual. Why do we cling so steadfastly to ego-based wishes and desires when they bring no peace, no comfort?

One of my all time favorites

This was an abstract story that took me a bit to really get into, because I didn’t know what was happening. But once I kind of figured it out, it was an enjoyable read. There is a drop Ness to it that might require reading a second time.