estdeus_innobis | There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. (Reply)

[A bright and crisp mid-morning, June 8 (day 373)]
[At the library]

It is quite a lovely day; cool and crisp and not at all cold enough to ache. I was somewhat apprehensive about stepping outside yesterday, but the snow hardly seems to cause a slip at all. And as it seems to be here still, I suppose I should not get into the habit of letting it keep me inside.

I cannot bring by all the books I thought might be of use, of course, but I do manage to fit nearly a dozen into a string bag, and slip the handles over one shoulder. It is merely a matter of going carefully, and I make my way to the library without incident. Really, the trickiest part of it is knocking the snow off my boots before I enter.

I glance around as I come inside, not seeing anyone for the moment, and go to set the books down on the front desk. Mrs Stephanides is not in evidence, and neither is the senior librarian. (Come to think of it, I can't recall meeting her... well, I am sure I shall have the chance at some point.) "Hello?"

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