📚 The Library That Wouldn’t Stay Still

For years, my life has been semi-nomadic. Seasons of movement punctuated by stretches of stillness. During the still seasons, I built personal libraries. Large ones.

I lugged them across the country. Sold them or gave them away when back on the move. I rebuilt them. Lost some. Found some more.

When shelves filled, I thrifted dressers to store the overflow. Once, I rescued a mid-century modern hutch from the side of the road just to house another wave of paper.

In a moment of triumph, I located and rescued several old esoteric volumes from a local shop, bringing a satisfying close to a long-term hunt.

Shortly after that, my house burned down. Goodbye mid-century hutch with the blonde wood and improbable legs, goodbye my paper-bound loves, both new and ancient, cracked spines and coffee stains et al.

That was the final straw. I found I could not rebuild this time. I began questioning my need to physically possess so many books. The weight. The fragility. The illusion of permanence.

This time, instead of rebuilding another physical archive, I turned toward the public domain and began building a library that couldn’t burn.

In the next post, I’ll show you what that library became.

Explore the archive →

Try the stichomancy engine →

Listen to today’s playlist →