I feel like a bee colony. A bee colony? A time-lapse video of a city at night. I am losing sleep in order to clean my room. I am not emailing anyone back.

Noah wrote this beautiful thing about the bookstore and bookstores, books and the internet, tangibility and intangibility, our generation and other generations. An excerpt...


Much of my life has been defined by the tangible world. Tangible relationships with others,

the contents of their minds, and the contents of their bookshelves frame a large part of my life.

I have worked in a dead man’s attic and a dead woman’s office, cataloguing his books with

his paintings and hers with her videocassette collection, finding among the books small love

notes, unimportant grocery lists written in intricate handwriting, and faded receipts for odd

items (Tove Jannson’s Moomintroll slippers; thirty dollars worth of Haribo Gummy Bears). I

have judged girlfriends on the contents of their bookcases. Girlfriends have almost broken up

with me for the content of my bookcases. I have sat through the funerals of people for whom

the library, the bookstore, and the personal library are regarded as staples of existence; these

places are eulogized as vital spaces that reiterate the deceased’s liveliness. And I have inherited

some of some of these libraries. I have worked for hours and hours in independent bookstores,

making friends and intellectual companions across the counter, discussing purchases and related

books. I have spent other hours just sitting in stores, talking with friends over cups of coffee.

Tangible books are full of ideas. The book, in its traditional form, serves as kindling for larger

and complete social relationships.

He's something, that Noah. Writing a personal history that begins with him but echoes far, far beyond - something he is well aware of. He is a fortunate person to have been born into this inheritance. Book rights, onward.