August mornings at the library where I work have mostly looked like today's view from the building's third-floor windows.
A mystic-looking triangle of lights beyond the houses can dimly be spotted in the photo above. I was hoping for a UFO, but when I zoomed in, the source of light turned out to be ordinary street lamps, telescoped by the distance into an accidental and illusory arrangement.
Turning away from the window, I double-checked that the nearby folio collections of art books and fashion books were shelved in a correct and healthy way. Which is definitely not part of my job. Yet there have always been several subject areas (the arts and literature and bibliography among them) about which I have felt kind of proprietary, where I needed occasionally to spend time with the actual tangible books. Otherwise I would only encounter their virtual selves on my office computer.
