Non ho smesso di pensarti,
vorrei tanto dirtelo.
Vorrei scriverti che mi piacerebbe tornare,
che mi manchi
e che ti penso.
Ma non ti cerco.
Non ti scrivo neppure ciao.
Non so come stai.
E mi manca saperlo.
Hai sorriso oggi?
Hai dei sogni?
Mi piacerebbe riuscire a cercarti.
Ma non ne ho la forza.
E neanche tu ne hai.
Ed allora restiamo ad aspettarci invano.
E ricordati che ti penso,
che non lo sai ma ti vivo ogni giorno,
che scrivo di te.
E ricordati che cercare e pensare son due cose diverse.
Ed io ti penso
ma non ti cerco.
A couple of teens from our branch in Hoquiam made a dress by upcycling an old Harry Potter book. You can see their progress, starting with a dress form and working through the process to make a beautiful final product! How beautiful!
My bag hits against my hip with
every step, and I shift my shoulder slightly to readjust the weight of it. The
automatic doors close behind me as I step inside the building and I’m
immediately hit with the coldness of the air, the air conditioner humming faintly
throughout the building. The fluorescent lights above me flicker slightly, and
the building is eerily quiet, I smile to myself at the silence.
I pull open another door, and it
squeaks slightly as I slip in and let it fall closed behind me with a creak. The
room is darker than the rest of the building, only a few lights dangle from the
ceiling, their bulbs dim from so many years of use. I place my bag on an empty
hook, letting it hang there as I slip my keys out of the pocket of my leggings, dumping them into my bag unceremoniously.
“Margaret?” I call out, wandering
through the huge stacks of books that fill the room from floor to ceiling,
turning it into an endless maze.
“Over here, dear!” She yells, her
voice muffled by all the books, and I try to pinpoint her location as I walk
past the stacks and stacks of literature.
“By ancient Chinese folklore!”
I shuffle back a few steps, turning
down another aisle of books and I see a flutter of patterned fabric.
“You’re here early tonight,” She
murmurs, never taking her eyes away from the list of titles she’s working
“I needed an escape.” I respond back
She nods, not pressing for any
elaboration or an explanation. That’s one of the things I like most about
Margaret, she doesn’t expect you to tell her everything. She respects the fact
that I’m not a very open person, and that I will say as much as I need but that
I don’t really like to divulge a lot of information. I glance at her, taking in
her appearance. Her hair is varying shades of gray, falling down to her waist
in a tangle of long, wild curls. There are crinkled, wrinkles around her green
eyes, and smile lines near the corner of he mouth. Her long skirt is covered in
a tribal print of some sort and the soft material trails well past her feet so
that she has to lift it slightly as she walks, causing it to billow behind her.
“Did you hear me, dear?” She asks,
breaking my train of thought, and I look up at her quickly.
“Sorry, I just kind of zoned out.” I
say apologetically and she smiles at me knowingly, “Can you repeat what you
“I need you to train the young man
In which Dean has the hots for a librarian named Cas, Cas may or may not have the hots for a mechanic named Dean, and Gabriel joins Sam in the peanut gallery in the hopes that he might just get to do a horizontal tango of his own.
So, this happened over the course of three days at a library conference. 101 galleys, 26 hardcovers for YA. Plus the 53 middle grade books hiding in the back. Plus 15 YA ARCs for a fellow Litsy teen librarian. Not one dime spent, but holy cow, I felt like a one-woman bookmobile hauling this load around the convention center. Guess it’s time to start digging in 😬😳😏