Here live my shields against the world.

Closing my eyes I inhale the mingling scents of fresh print and ancient, crumbling bindings, until my anxiety ebbs away.

Which do I want?

I move amongst them, nodding to old friends, assessing new arrivals, narrowing down my choices. I need comfort, I decide, the comfort of familiarity.

That means just one thing.

I lift it down, smiling at what a librarian would call ‘slight foxing’ and I call love. Settling it and myself into the chair beneath the window, I reverently ease it open and begin to read.

The world fades away.

Another 100 word post – it seems to be a hard habit to break now I’ve started.
This is a quick picture of one wall of the room that was part of the inspiration for the above:

3 thoughts on “Sanctuary

  1. Thank you both for commenting, I'm glad you enjoyed it.
    Mansel, I couldn't agree more, I have a deep and abiding love affair with several books.
    Baglady, I was referring to Le Morte D'Arthur, beloved but elderly and, since it was printed in 1900 needs very gentle handling!


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