Essay by Isobel Jensen
I am part of the library. The quiet smells of thoughts and dreams. Years of worlds and pinpricks of universes hide in ink on pages. All it takes is one step - I am greeted by a lifetime of memories, not only of this library, but of many. I feel the soft spines as I float through worlds, as I experience my own memories alongside the imagination of hundreds, thousands. I was brought to life in the libraries of my childhood, I found my soul and thoughts shaped by the voices of strangers, I was alive as shadow people spoke the thoughts I could not express. There were many worlds in my childhood, in the universe of the library, adventures and explorations unending. Memories and shadows of memories, the beginning and ending of thoughts otherwise forgotten to time. I fell in love with the universe of the library. As I've grown, my universe has grown too. It expands as my son explores this small town and the cavernous worlds of its library, as unknown people shape his voice and future. He smiles his gap toothed smile at the visions of talking animals, rhyming and singing in new and magical ways. Picking up a book, and then another and another, he hunts. Because of the universe of the library, he finds the things we all do, the things I found. Hope and joy and peace. Curiosity and excitement. Sometimes he even finds fear and the unknown. He walks in the dreams only found in the library, and I can see. He is part of the library too
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