The art of whiling away time when surrounded by a foreign language. What we read when free to choose and think no-one will see. With an account of one of the places where we do it.
I am the Trash Librarian, once dilatory but always aware of my duties to preserve and acquire. Scavengers have taken and destroyed in the past but what I found here is still here. And since I came everyone who arrives with books must leave them on departure.
Over the years there has been good nature and at times great generosity in the leaving of the books. There has been wit, illumination, excitement and surprise in both the books and their leavers (as well as occasional shame-facedness).
No book is turned away, or locked away, though some are shelved separately as representations too scary or too violent for the unwary, reading perhaps alone, or in a lonely room of the house.
Diligent now in my Librarianship, as blogging permits, indeed invites, contributions from virtual visitors, I thought there might be interest in the Library, and in the world in which it is set.
What if all the pictures, prints, soprammobiles, rugs, (goodness) chairs... joined the books, films, dvds, (photos?) that can be drawn on, borrowed, enjoyed, returned, replaced with fresh choices? Librarians! Kings of the Universe!
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