Truthfully, I ought to be doing a dozen different issues proper now, however this concept has utterly captured my consideration.
If I had my method, my Little Free Library wouldn’t simply be a field of books on a stick. It might be a small landmark—quietly considerate, somewhat weathered, and stuffed with coronary heart. The construction could be made from reclaimed wooden, one thing robust like oak, light from solar and time right into a gentle, silvery grey. I image a glass entrance door, easy and durable, so you may see the titles inside—books with actual weight, like Simon Winchester’s The Man Who Beloved China or Mark Kurlansky’s Havana. Books that take you locations, that make you assume.
The roof would prolong simply sufficient to offer somewhat shade—as a result of that is Arizona, in spite of everything—and there’d be a spot on the aspect the place desert lizards may collect, perhaps with a small bowl that catches rainwater. A nod to the surroundings, one thing respectful of the lives that go by, human or not.
At night time, a small solar-powered gentle would flick on—not vivid, only a gentle glow to remind individuals it’s nonetheless there, nonetheless open. A spot for tales, for concepts, for moments of quiet connection in a busy world.
It wouldn’t draw consideration to itself, however when you walked previous it usually sufficient, you’d begin to really feel prefer it belonged. Prefer it was a part of the neighborhood. Prefer it knew your title.
