une bibliothèque

growing up in alexandria, my back gate swung open to a spacious, sun-dappled library. i spent endless afternoons there, pouring over astrid lindgren and roald dahl books, contraband issues of seventeen, and microfilm reels from the days of flappers. i was delighted then, when i finally paid a visit to my local library, just around the corner from my apartment and steps from my beloved waverly diner.


it was a nineteenth century courthouse and today, it is a cozy collection of stone spiral staircases, stained glass windows, gables, and gardens. i couldn't help but think of beauty and the beast.

around the time that it was built, a spunky socialite named anne charlotte lynch hosted lively literary salons in my apartment building. writers like ralph waldo emerson, herman melville, and edgar allan poe stopped by to raise hell. with some goading from anne, edgar even shared a poem of his, called "the raven", for the very first time. (he once lived nearby with his beloved virginia - later known as lenore, annabel lee, and lolita.)

my, i love my haunted old neighborhood.

(see also: party girl)