The word of the day for November 24, 2012: LIBRARY
Library is a word that technology has rendered nearly obsolete. I had forgotten what a magical place a library used to be for me: construction paper letters announcing the new; musty smells of aged leather and browning paper announcing the old; librarians navigating a mysterious decimal system; the cacophony of crossing waves of passion from poets, prophets, and imaginers transcending time; the silence.
It was interesting that, like me, many oneword™ members also related the word library to smell:
I walk into the beautiful room, with high arched ceilings and rows upon rows of sweet smelling books. The odor overwhelms me, as I feel the spines of those that I pass. It is the most wonderful sensation; being engulfed completely in the wonder of knowledge, a feeling teeming with information at your fingers, in the air, all around you.
Scents of decaying pages, and blossoming love:
I walked into the library, and the smell of old books and the sound of turning pages filled me. A boy glanced at me from a nearby table, flashing me a warm smile before returning his eyes to his book. I glanced at the cover, but couldn’t read the title.
The fragrance of an acronym:
L is the love of the smell of old pages.
I is the person who reads these words
B is the books that decorate these walls
R is the ragged scripts of old
A is the almanac. I don’t know what that means.
R is the rug I used to sit on reading as a child
Y is why a read. for an adventure every day.
The aroma of a literary love affair:
I went to the library to learn
but all I accomplished was falling in love
with the smell, touch, words
kept on display
from millions of minds through
thousands of years
Everyone is obsessed with the new Kindles, but I personally like books, and have my own library. I find there is nothing like curling up with a good book in your hands.
The library can feel like a friend:
The library called to me, each book whispered my name. Their voices all distinct but each one familiar in some way to me.
What am I but a library of reminiscence? Something dusty, neglected, unwanted, burdened, plagued by your every thought. Sitting collecting. My very being pressed between each page, like a flower, beautiful but dead. What am I?
A library can be where gods and multiverses begin and never end:
A library is full of little big bangs
Or, if you prefer,
creations of little gods.
We know the beginning,
but look anxiously for the end,
These are selected excerpts of entries from oneword.com, and are just a few of many great entries—too many to list here.
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