Of Wood and Biblichor
la bibliothèque – l’Université de Montpellier
It’s a strange wistfulness, old libraries.
Outside, the heat made the cobbles seem to rock underfoot, and sometimes the sun struck my eyes so directly that I went momentarily blind; but inside, the air was cool and loose, light met the floor at different angles, and the polished wood was warm to the touch.
Who has time enough to read them all, I thought.
Each book locked into its own era, each one bound like a room that its author abandoned years ago … think of it, all those thoughts littering the air at the moment of their capture.
And then there was the perfume of it, an unexpected surge of vanilla, almond, coffee: biblichor, the scented notes of old books, rising from thousands of pages into that cool air.
I love libraries; they scramble my circuits.
Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story including the word “surge”. Some images created with Midjourney; all writing is authentically my own original work.©Misky 2006-2026.
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