11/21/12
There’s a big fish outside my window. Really big. As tall or taller than the building I’m sitting in. That doesn’t ring true with accuracy, I know, but that’s what I see from where I am. It’s copper- green and grey with sculpted scales, taking a gulp at the sky. If a plane were to fly by in the distance across the line of sight where its mouth stands agape, I have no doubt it would appear as if the fish were about to catch a fly. Such an event has not yet occurred, but I haven’t lost hope that it could.
It’s not really my window. It’s the window to my new library. I say that as if you could possess a library, but you can’t. I used to frequent one and now I frequent another, but neither of them will notice. Never static, these libraries. People come in and people leave, sometimes the same people come in and the same people leave, but over time those people die and new people come in and library still stands, crumbling ceilings, sounds of faulty electricity, narrow shelves and all.
I’m small in front of these floor-to ceiling windows, but I’m wearing a dress that probably draws too much attention amidst the muted expectation of fall wardrobes. I’ve sat here for a week and a half. Not consistently, mind you, but each day for most of the day. These windows probably once showcased the city skyline. Now it is an exhibit of stacked monotony. The city has curated an unfortunate row of apartment buildings across the street from the library. Oh, and the fish. In the corner, at the right angle, is the fish. If it weren’t for that, all hope would be lost for the aesthetics of the window. I hope that in the library today, amidst the monochrome scene of black laptops and tapping fingers, that I am the fish.
I’m deeply disturbed by the fact that I didn’t notice the fish until today. I’ve been coming to this particular library and sitting with view of the window for a week now and no fish. This is how I know that something is wrong. My usual mechanics have been skewed somehow.
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A Return to Journaling Via the Inspiration of Anais Nin
Read more about the beauty of Nin’s life’s work in which she journals five volumes of her life in a journal novel at Writer’s Club
such delicious writing. libraries might be my favorite thing, especially how you describe them with an ancient flavor. they hold every world ever created.
Thanks so much for reading! I’ve been wrapped up in writing my novel and have abandoned my blog for too long, I’ve missed your comments! Libraries are indeed magical! Some of my best friends live there and I try to visit them often