Honestly, I should be doing dozens of other things right now, but this idea captured my attention perfectly.
If I had my own way, my little free library wouldn’t be a book box on a stick. It is a small landmark, some thoughtful, a little weathered and heart-filled. This structure is made of reclaimed wood, which is strong like oak, fades from the sun and time, turning soft, silvery grey. Imagine a simple, sturdy glass front door. So you can see the titles of real-weight books, like the Man Who Loved China and Mark Kransky’s Havana. A book that takes away the place to think about you.
The roof is after all Arizona. After all, on the side of the desert lizards gather, there is a spot in a small bowl that will probably catch rainwater. A nod to the environment, a respect for the life that passes by, whether human or not.
At night, the small solar light is elastic. It’s not bright, it’s soft, and still open, reminding me that I’m still there. A story of quiet moments of connection in a busy world, a place for ideas.
It won’t draw attention to itself, but if you pass it frequently enough, you will start to feel like it belongs. It was like it was part of the neighborhood. As if that’s what you knew.
Source: Cup of Jo – cupofjo.com
