When the cold comes, when our needs announce themselves, it is with clothing, with possessions, in literature, through dreams—in all the forms and categories that shape, contain and constrain—that we keep ourselves alive. Yet, in a society in which some are rich and some are poor, who gets to dream, and who invents our forms? This is a book made of money and the lack of money; of writing and of not-writing; of illness and of care; of low-rent apartments, cake-baking mothers, Socratic daughters and bodies that refuse to become information.