The library looks like a war zone with temporary plaster columns holding up the ceiling and holes drilled into the precious mosaic floor.
I guess you really do have to break something before you can fix it.
Sutton doesn’t want me here, which is why I come after hours. I can think without the jackhammers and sweaty muscled men distracting me. There’s something about this broken wall that makes me ache inside, as if a living being has been injured, as if I need to sew it back together so that it can heal. But not with the butt of a buffalo or the heel of a boot.
That might be a more authentic restoration, but it’s boring. And I have the sense that it would bury the wall instead of making it come alive. This library isn’t going to be a museum. It will have modern books and computers for th
