flâneur

Seeing Color

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Sunlight and brick

Dust from books moved hours ago, drifting lazily in shafts of golden light. Faint giggles, muted by sun-stained upholstery and the reference section. The soft, earthen sweetness of yellowed pages and weathered binding. As a kid, I would trace paths between bricks in the wall of my local library. With my extended index finger, I became a ship captain, navigating uncharted waters. I’d stand on my toes, searching for a new passageway through the northerly seas, as crumbs of dislodged mortar fall to my feet. I went back recently, decades later. The space was smaller than I remembered. Where…

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