The library demanded a smoking jacked and a pipe. An aristocratic British accent, a leather chair, and a glass of wine at 3 grand a bottle. The dark wood cabinets lining the room stretched to the ornate ceiling, filled with countless leather bound, gold-lettered volumes spanning the spectrum of disciplines. But, locked safely behind panes of glass, I could only gaze as they mocked me, a middle-class American cultural philistine in their eyes. What I wouldn’t give, how thrilled It would be to crack open a few and bathe in the ceaseless flow of words. Look at these titles:
What even is “Miscellany” anyways? Needless to say, a new life goal for me is to write a book with “Miscellany” in the title.
Was it merely an extraordinary coincidence when these three extraordinary W’s--Warburton, Walsh, and Whitelaw--joined forces to write a grand history of Dublin
I would be interested to read these 18th or 19th century British commentaries on the United States Constitution. Too bad I’m not rich or influential enough to have access to this library.
But, of course, as an avid reader, writer, and lover of memoir, it was this book which stood out to me as the most tantalizing find in the library.
How many hours I’ve spent hidden away in some secret closet or attic wondering, yearning to just get a glimpse into the secret and intriguing life of wool—now I could finally find out but no! Alas! Memoirs of Wool, that holy grail, inches away from my fingertips, and it might as well be a million miles away! Dejected and rejected, I hung my head in defeat and left in silence.
I really laughed out loud about this post. I know every says they 'lol' online, but that usually means they mutely nod their head or perhaps summit a smirk. But really, your trip looks awesome so far.
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