I am sitting in a bookstore. Barnes & Noble to be precise. I like going to bookstores. I like being around books, even if I know that I am not going to buy any books. I like the smell. Used bookstores smell better as the books are more aromatic. But new books smell nice too. They smell fresh and... Unread. I like Libraries too. Love them in fact. Though I have not spent much time in any libraries over the last few years. My love for libraries began when I was a boy of seven. I was being chased by some larger, older boys and I fled into a public library. They werent going to follow me in there, so I decided to wait them out. As I waited, I picked up a book. I read it. Then I picked up other books, and I read them. Soon I had forgotten all about the troubles that awaited me in the world outside. And when I next looked up, I saw that it was quite late and I realized that I should probably be getting home. There would be some explaining to do to my mother... if she was in the mood to hear explanations... sometimes she wasnt, but the beatings that I would recieve would be mostly superficial and I would still recieve food and shelter from her. I knew that much at my young age. Beatings and humiliation were the price that I paid for my continued existence. But in the Library, I was free. I was my own master and through its books many secrets were revealed to me. Years later, I would watch the film Conan The Barbarian, the 1982 version staring Arnold Schwartenegger, and the scene where he is being chased by wolves, after just being set free from slavery, that scene always stuck with me. As he runs, he stumbles upon a cave, he hides in the cave and while there, he discovers that it is the tomb of some ancient warrior. The skeletal remains sit upon a throne. One long dead hand rests upon the pommel of a sword, a fine weapon made of a steel that was forged by some long-fogotten civilization, not reproducable by the smiths of that barbaric world that he currently inhabited. So he takes the sword and with it he emerges from the cave. As the wolves take note of him and rise to attack, with a stroke of the sword he strikes off the remains of the shackles that once bound his feet in slavery... In the next scene, he is clad in wolf pelts.
Posted on: Fri, 01 Aug 2014 19:47:30 +0000
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