Saturday, 25 April 2015

“The library smells like old books,
a thousand leather doorways into
other worlds. I hear silence,
like the mind of God.
I feel a presence in the empty chair 
beside me. The librarian watches
me suspiciously. But the library is a
sacred place, and I sit with the patron
saint of readers. Pulsing goddess light
moves through me for one moment
like a glimpse of eternity instantly forgotten.
She is gone. I smell mold,
I hear the clock ticking,
I see an empty chair. Ask me now and
I’ll say this is just a place where you
can’t play music or eat. She’s gone.
The library sucks.”
~ Laura Whitcomb, A Certain Slant of Light

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