Introduction: Neuroscience and Fiction


I live just above a sorcery shop, a shop for sorcerers, selling all the material sorcerers need. Not the Harry Potter memorabilia but the real stuff. It is an ironmongery for sorcerers, far more ancient than Harry Potter. There are not many sorcery shops; it is the only one I know, in fact, and I just happen to live upstairs. I never dared to enter the shop (I must be a little scared, I suppose) but I never miss looking into the window. Everything is a bit dusty. There are crystal balls of various sizes, tarot cards, small bottles filled with powder or bluish liquids, and a handbook for chiromancy. It is a big and thick volume, like a dictionary. The cover features an open hand nicely schematized with its different lines set out in colors, each bearing its name.

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