Morning glory
His hands are dry but in the corner of his eyea lonesome teardrop traps the joyful raysof morning-sun.as the library awakes. From dust to vellum,pressed between the breakfastand his dreams,in […]
Category Archives: the aged librarian
Rooms filled with words
The universe (which others call the Library) is composed of an indefinite, perhaps infinite number of hexagonal galleries. Jorge Lous Borges, The Library of Babel. Which came first, the library or […]
The art of writing
The aged librarian still keeps the ancient typewriter he bought from his uncle when he had ambitions of becoming an author. “I must study the masters”, he said. But the […]
Behind the seventh shelf
Sometimes, when gibbously pregnant the moon descends behind a cloak of clouds to spend an argent night inside his library. She tiptoes in her silken slippers, teases him with flashes […]
Seaward Ho!
At first, you see him aged and grey his beard unkempt, his tie is stained with tea, but still, he asks politely “How may I help you, dear” he is […]
