Jorge Luis Borges begins this short tale with a big bang:
I know they accuse me of arrogance, and perhaps misanthropy, and perhaps of madness. Such accusations (for which I shall exact punishment in due time) are derisory. It is true that I never leave my house, but it is also true that its doors (whose numbers are infinite) (footnote: The original says fourteen, but there is ample reason to infer that, as used by Asterion, this numeral stands for infinite.) are open day and night to men and to animals as well. Anyone may enter. He will find here no female pomp nor gallant court formality, but he will find quiet and solitude. And he will also find a house like no other on the face of this earth. (There are those who declare there is a similar one in Egypt, but they lie.) Even my detractors admit there is not one single piece of furniture in the house.
Another ridiculous falsehood has it that I, Asterion, am a prisoner.
Shall I repeat that there are no locked doors, shall I add that there are no locks?
He who reads a line of Borges exhumes an entire library.
Stumblers all, if you should come across any material related to or written by Borges, don’t just thumb it up; please affix your thumbs with the tag: ‘borges’ — that way, we can all help each other out in making Borges accessible and easier to find, collating all his works online and related literature, using SU as a tool, simply by tagging the thumbs appropriately.
I’ve already begun building my library through my own borges tag.