a collection

Currently locked away in a container, the ones often seen on big ships on the waters, are books. This container is currently sitting, next to two others, a small distance off from a warehouse being renovated so folks can be moved into a better living area, into a quieter home. Whether or not these books will be moved into the building itself once it is completed is hard to know. There are so many, a small library would be necessary to hold them all.

It is a passion, something I do to keep track of things as they go by. So many of these books are old, first publications, first editions. I have had to many years to go through at this point and none of these books have cost me much considering I tend to get them when they first get out. They age with me.

When I moved in with Eoghan, I said I was packing everything up, having everything shipped here. Most of what I own is still sitting in containers like the one with the books. I have three in all. It’s hard not to have a lot of things at my age and considering how many places I spent my time at. Those three containers are sitting in part of the yard at the back of the warehouse and I’ve been thinking about using them to create a sort of mock library once they were empty. I’m aware that I have too much luggage to even fit just our single floor, even though there will be room. Some of these things will go into the other apartments. It is a matter of trust and I know that trust is strong, usually, between those who hide from mortals. Zora is an exception but we’re slowly winning her over.

The slight trouble at this point is that there is no room for all these books out of the container and the container cannot be transformed into a three-floor library if it is full. So all these carefully filled boxes will have to be moved into the warehouse briefly. In the safest of room until that project is completed. This is something I have not told Eoghan about because it is a recent sort of thought.

When I was given confirmation that my things had arrived, and I had asked them to drop them off at the back of the construction site, out of the way, I knew that I would finally find some peace within myself and I did. I just hadn’t realized how much I really had. I did honestly think I could fit all of my things up with us. The top floor is huge, we’ll have room, most might fit but these books, there are far too many. I had them scattered in small places left and right, in this home, that house, and this summer home.

It is a collection that is almost as old as time. I have scrolls and papyrus papers and leather-bound books, hand printed bound ones, hand written ones and so on. A home-type library with these three containers changed and fixed up to hold these books should do. I will have to remind those stepping within that a lot of these books are precious though I think it might not be so much of an issue.

Some of these, the absolutely oldest that should only be on display and the newest things that could do with being read can and will be moved into our home proper. The rest will go in with the container-library.

Everyone on the planet has something they collect. With some it’s buttons, others will collect postcards. I have seen leaves collected between pages of books, marbles and photos of time gone by. It is hardly something to be called a hoarder for. They are well taken care of, I have read them all and usually when they are out of their boxes they are placed in orderly fashion, cleanly on shelves.

I miss being able to run my fingers over their spines, I miss opening a book and breathing in its old book smell. It’s just something to remind me that I’m not the only thing or person this old. Of course, as old as I am, there are things that still weren’t about when I was younger. I also have a few tablets on hand, the stone kind with inscriptions that have more than likely lost their meaning over time. Some would more than likely give a lot to be able to put their hands on such old artifact but they’re mine, they’re not really going anywhere.

Quentin likes old books, is what I realized these last holidays when he was given his gifts. I suppose he might be spending some time over here once all construction is done, once all is fixed up and ready. I don’t mind, I know that some collections are meant to be shared with some and books are meant to be read, not merely looked at from afar.

I did check up on the containers once they arrived and everything was in good shape, covered and protected and padded. The boxes the books are in are still shaped as they should and seem to have not been bumped about at all. I’m glad.
Once back home, I pull out the plans for our home, I look them over. I know we could just transform one of the floors into a library of sorts but that would take away some room that we might be able to offer to those in need, those like us trying to get away from a world that might shun them if they knew what they really were.

Instead, I pull out a pad of paper and I set it next to the plan for the warehouse and I scribble a little. Plan making is not something I’m very strong at but I know I can get my point mostly across. I sketch something up quick and slightly messy, with what and how I think these three containers could be set up. I look it over for a moment but I have to shake my head. It doesn’t look as good as it could be and I’m wondering if there is going to be enough room for all the books and for people to wander through. I add in two more, setting two on the ground, two above nearly perfectly above but not quite, for design more than anything else and the last one up top, at an angle.

I can imagine that one at the top as being a sort of reading room with the walls all opened up into wide sunny windows. I think with four containers at the bottom, there,s going to be plenty of room for the books on high shelves and on slight desks and tables. If not, well I can always see about adding more containers to the end and just making sure it’s all comfortable. Money is hardly an issue at this point, I’m not even worried about that.

All I can really think about is that I want to settle in. I want to make this my home in a way no home has ever been before. I want what I own to be safe and sound. If I were in any way selfish as I know I am some times, I could merely take all of these books and pull them into the realm. I have a huge library already there, waiting. Most of its shelves are empty but there are books, those from our kind though I have some of these books in the container as well. But I am not selfish, not right now. I think these books deserve to be read and that’s why I want to set them up in this way.


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