The Wall

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“What a dear old wall that is that runs along by the river there! I never pass it without feeling better for the sight of it. Such a mellow, bright, sweet old wall; what a charming picture it would make, with the lichen creeping here, and the moss growing there, a shy young vine peeping over the top at this spot, to see what is going on upon the busy river, and the sober old ivy clustering a little farther down! There are fifty shades and tints and hues in every ten yards of that old wall. . . . It looks so peaceful and so quiet, and it is such a dear old place to ramble round in the early morning before many people are about.” Jerome K. Jerome, “Three Men In A Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog)” Ch. 6 (1889)

Bookshelves

Some may look at this, shrug and click on through. Others will open their e-mail or pick up the phone wondering if I've lost my mind. Perhaps I have. I thought I would try something different. Everything's still in order--it just looks different.

While rearranging I discovered a few surprises, one being that each stack has a life of its own and many require a delicate touch. These are more than just piles of books, but an exercise in balance and quiet control, thoughtfulness. One does not just take a book from the shelf. One must handle softly, move, rearrange, stack and re-stack. The shelves become ever an ever-changing work of art.

Less than 15 minutes after finishing, one faculty member froze in his tracks outside my door then spent nearly 10 minutes commenting on the fresh look. He mentioned that he, too, might do the same and he would call me for advice. I refused to help, not because of the workload (there's not much, really--and it's quite fun), but the experience is singular for the bibliophile.


Ordered Chaos.
Disarray under control.

Oh, and did I mention how much shelf space opened up with this new arrangement?


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