today i went to the library. i wanted to look for a children’s book i loved very much as a kid. a librarian helped me find it in the children’s section. she looked at me, an adult male, suspiciously when I first came in, and then that dissolved into kindness when i asked her to help me.
at first i went to the reference room to re-read it but it was noisy even in there. the building is echo-y and the sounds of people talking carry. i am sometimes very sensitive and for some reason today i found the noises especially over-stimulating. i wanted to read this book carefully, lovingly, in some peace and quiet.
i looked through the whole building and found a corner room in the upper floor, hidden away, that was very quiet. i spent the next couple of hours re-reading the book. i love reading a book in a sitting, if i can. and i don’t have a library card here to check the book out with. for some reason i can’t articulate this book is too holy to re-read digitally.
i was entranced with the story once more. i marveled at the author’s mastery, and prayed i might one day write something this good. i cried four or five times re-reading the book. it has lost none of its splendor; it has only gained it.