I would make sure it was done in the style of a certain television show featuring Sherlock Holmes telling the story of the life and times of a young British actor from start to finish, who — in turn — spends some time studying what it would mean to be Sherlock Holmes. I would buy an oval-like mirror propped up just enough that one could flip it end over an end — a giant oversized beach ball of a coin tossed into the air. If anyone on the set of this second television show — which I imagine would feature grumbling from one or two actors — I would hide myself behind one side of the mirror and say to actors as they passed, “Have you ever entered the land of The Borges Carnival, Traveler? Step through this mirror to see. We have an encyclopedia that can balance itself on the head of an elephant.” And, if they don’t stop, I will bang my copy of Ficciones on the ground and let it ring out like a tuning fork. (As one does.)