A Corner of Beinecke Book and Manuscript Library


From the corner where I am sitting, two walls can be seen. One is the wall of marble, another is the wall of books. In my sight, it is a world of straight lines. Squares and rectangles, are arranged one after another, in such a regular order in such a modern way. However, in this modern cave of geometry, ancient words and thoughts are treasured. 

Natural light shines in from the outside through the thin marble, but only a little. From the first time I saw it, I wondered what it reminds me of - this sturdy and fragile feeling that the stones give to me. And this mottled and elusive yellow. “Amber”, that word comes to my mind. It is. Because of the mystical light, the marble becomes like amber, a kind of stone maintaining a creature just like maintaining an eternal time. The grain above seems to be the trace of the torrent of time. They are infinite variations in rigid squares. The light strives through the pattern of marble, but it can not go any further. It dissipates in the dimness, weakly. 




In front of the dim wall, in a glass treasure box, and in it the artificial light shines exceptionally like diamonds. Books are neatly placed here. One by one. My gaze wanders to the line of the books’ upper edge, rise and fall. Round and round, they line up like a loop. If we use one book as a unit of time, then all the books here compose a grand chronicle. This is a museum of time. With words as the carrier, the time has remained on each page.

I lift my head slightly and stare at the tower of books, a tiny version of the tower of Babel. Different languages, different periods here. This time it doesn’t make us separated, but makes us more united. Now it reminds everyone who sees it of knowledge and intelligence, and things we all admire together.



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