I’m working in the university library. It’s one of a few places I’ve found to write. When I was a kid, I used to walk down to what seemed to be a gigantic, monolithic library in my hometown. Inside was this distinctive smell of adhesive bound paper. The creaking wood floor. Poor lighting between towering stacks. I loved that place. But as I grew, I wanted more. I began to prefer the larger library in the next county. When I last visited, my hometown library looked so very tiny. Now in the digital age, libraries as a whole seem small. But they’re still repositories of hard copy, access to information, and space. They’re wonderful.