Strange Pictures

Flip to the first drawing that made you pause. What was the very first small detail your eye snagged on, and did you catch yourself wanting to show someone?

Where were you when you read this, and did you need a lamp on, a blanket, or a snack to get through it comfortably? Tell us your reading setup.

This book trusts you to read pictures instead of just words. Did that feel playful and warm, like a puzzle handed to you, or did it make you a little anxious? Which did you enjoy more?

So much here lives in ordinary things: a sketch on a page, a page in a notebook, a drawing taped up somewhere. What everyday object in your own home holds more feeling than it looks like it should?

The book is built around people trying to say something they cannot say out loud. When has a drawing, a doodle, a note, or a photo been the easiest way for you to tell someone how you felt?

There is a lot of tenderness tucked inside this book's uneasiness, often around family and the people we protect. Which moment of care or protectiveness stayed with you after the chill wore off?

Without giving anything away: once you understood how to look at these pages, did you feel comforted (the world makes sense after all) or more unsettled (it was there the whole time)? Sit with which of those is truer for you.

The book suggests people leave traces of themselves whether they mean to or not. Thinking about what you have made, written, or saved, does the idea of being read that closely feel like being known or like being exposed?