I got into my car today to go off to shop for books. Always more books, must take advantage of the times and the cash flow, make sure that all the good will I have been building up with my local merchants over the last year isn't lost in the ebb and flow of professional political maneuvering. What I noticed, more than anything else, as I made my way up and down the aisles of all my local bookstores and thrifts, books in hand, was a certain scent coming off my shirt, something soft and fragrant and floral, light, promoting almost a sort of dream sequence, a kind of waking memory that went along with one the concert pieces that my Esteemed Companion and I heard last night.
It was accentuated by Lucinda Williams and Car Wheels on a Gravel Road as I made my way back to the branch. It was once again brought to the fore when I worked over all those incoming books, when I broke down boxes in the overcast afternoon sun, while I sat at my desk handling packing slips and information about reference questions and Friends newsletters. That scent, one that continues to conjure up happy smiles, delightful memories, has lingered and for that I am happy as you have been with me all day long, my silent companion, my source of joy, even its only been in the folds of my soft brown shirt.
Something great to be said about how a good linen chemise, heavy threaded, hard to press, a hard to handle piece of fabric that wrinkles easy, makes for a delightful transport system and how that delightful shirt made my heart soar and my day light all day long.
It's all good, Yes, so very good.
Salud!
A Weekly Dose of Architecture Books is on Substack
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