Anyone (Bueller? Anyone?) who reads this blog on a regular basis knows only too well that I’m always banging on about words. Word order, word magic, the written word, the spoken word, the last word. “But a picture is worth,” you might suggest, and I would snort, perhaps, or roll my eyes up into the back of my skull where I store my own pictures, thank you, many of which are made of words. Except not today.  Today, thanks to a very hungry caterpillar, I received a copy of a book without words, and it has moved me beyond them. Anyone else had the great, sweet pleasure to read/see The Arrival, by Shaun Tan?