My most recent visit to a library was in New York. A scorching day, I took refuge in it with a book. I sat at a long table with a number of other drop-ins. Everyone was quiet and reading. After a few pages I caught myself inspecting the people around me. A motley bunch: students, tourists, people on a lunch break, tired-looking people, an elderly guy with a worn book, a young kid. It was fascinating to sit and share time with strangers turning the pages of our books. Cycling to work this morning , I saw a poster advertising FB’s metaverse. I want mine in a library.
You may have just penned your next pics and words post. Strange to relate, my visit to New York in 1985 also took me into New York Central Library, not far from the cathedral as I recall.
If ever you run the poll A-pile-of-stones vs. Breathtaking-art, put me down for the second group. The Guardian article caught my attention too. Another figure in it -- the one about the collection drawing only about 500,000 visitors a year -- suggests I might be the in the losing group in the poll above.
The Palais de Chaillot, at the Trocadero Square in Paris, offers a breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower from its esplanade. When I used to take tourists to it, I would tell them to huddle round me, and take the man in front's shoulder with their hand and close their eyes till I tell them to stop. And, when they opened them, it was like throwing open the most glorious picture book of Paris right there, in real life, standing before them. They loved it.
But few, if any, ever turn to read the wisdom that is inscribed on the gable ends of the Chaillot Palace itself. It was built in around 1935 as a centre for study and preservation of cinematographic works. I don't know if that's a function it still performs, but one function that it has had in all that time is as a library.
Que je sois tombe ou trésor, que je parle ou me taise, ceci ne tient qu'à toi, cher lecteur. N'entre pas sans désir. If my memory serves me right.
I remember the day and hour I ever saw that, for the first time; Easter 1977. It shocked me. In its brusque message and its dismissiveness of the incurious. It, a centre of study and learning, rebuffing the nonchalant. Well, it's what universities the world round do, isn't it? They rebuff the nonchalant and open their arms to the thirsty and hungry for knowledge. Whether I'm to be a morgue or a treasure trove, whether I should speak or remain silent, depends on you who pass by. If you don't have the urge to come in, then don't. Does that not stir in you some kind of curiosity to know what you'd be mssing out on, if pass it by you did?
500,000 is a respectable visitor count for an attraction that may not be well visited, but is nonetheless visited well.
Polls have no winners or losers. And I always relish being in the minority of any poll. My ma met one of her dearest friends at college at age 14. When she had clocked up 34, they celebrated 20 years of friendship with a night out and included another who had meantime made them a trio.
En route to wherever they were headed in Nancy's car, a census poll was being taken. The car was stopped and a researcher bowed to the window. "How many of you are there?" "Three." "May I ask where you're headed?" They told him. And where had they come from? They told him that as well. "Just one more question - do you make this journey on a regular basis?" Quick as flash, Nancy had the car in gear and was off leaving the man to note her reply: "Every 20 years."
Was. It appears the library is now closed, since 30 November. Sad.
My most recent visit to a library was in New York. A scorching day, I took refuge in it with a book. I sat at a long table with a number of other drop-ins. Everyone was quiet and reading. After a few pages I caught myself inspecting the people around me. A motley bunch: students, tourists, people on a lunch break, tired-looking people, an elderly guy with a worn book, a young kid. It was fascinating to sit and share time with strangers turning the pages of our books. Cycling to work this morning , I saw a poster advertising FB’s metaverse. I want mine in a library.
You may have just penned your next pics and words post. Strange to relate, my visit to New York in 1985 also took me into New York Central Library, not far from the cathedral as I recall.
Yes, the Cathedral is close by.
If ever you run the poll A-pile-of-stones vs. Breathtaking-art, put me down for the second group. The Guardian article caught my attention too. Another figure in it -- the one about the collection drawing only about 500,000 visitors a year -- suggests I might be the in the losing group in the poll above.
The Palais de Chaillot, at the Trocadero Square in Paris, offers a breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower from its esplanade. When I used to take tourists to it, I would tell them to huddle round me, and take the man in front's shoulder with their hand and close their eyes till I tell them to stop. And, when they opened them, it was like throwing open the most glorious picture book of Paris right there, in real life, standing before them. They loved it.
But few, if any, ever turn to read the wisdom that is inscribed on the gable ends of the Chaillot Palace itself. It was built in around 1935 as a centre for study and preservation of cinematographic works. I don't know if that's a function it still performs, but one function that it has had in all that time is as a library.
Que je sois tombe ou trésor, que je parle ou me taise, ceci ne tient qu'à toi, cher lecteur. N'entre pas sans désir. If my memory serves me right.
I remember the day and hour I ever saw that, for the first time; Easter 1977. It shocked me. In its brusque message and its dismissiveness of the incurious. It, a centre of study and learning, rebuffing the nonchalant. Well, it's what universities the world round do, isn't it? They rebuff the nonchalant and open their arms to the thirsty and hungry for knowledge. Whether I'm to be a morgue or a treasure trove, whether I should speak or remain silent, depends on you who pass by. If you don't have the urge to come in, then don't. Does that not stir in you some kind of curiosity to know what you'd be mssing out on, if pass it by you did?
500,000 is a respectable visitor count for an attraction that may not be well visited, but is nonetheless visited well.
Polls have no winners or losers. And I always relish being in the minority of any poll. My ma met one of her dearest friends at college at age 14. When she had clocked up 34, they celebrated 20 years of friendship with a night out and included another who had meantime made them a trio.
En route to wherever they were headed in Nancy's car, a census poll was being taken. The car was stopped and a researcher bowed to the window. "How many of you are there?" "Three." "May I ask where you're headed?" They told him. And where had they come from? They told him that as well. "Just one more question - do you make this journey on a regular basis?" Quick as flash, Nancy had the car in gear and was off leaving the man to note her reply: "Every 20 years."