When I was a child, we had book mobiles that came around to the neighborhood. I was always ready to climb up the steps, to surge into the dark, cramped interior and head straight for the books I loved to read--anything to do with horses or wolves or adventurous children (I hadn't quite discovered SF at that point). I loved the book mobile. I loved the smell of the books, the way the adults and children treated them as if they were sacred objects. I loved the weight and texture of them. Sigh. I could easily have been a librarian but life led me in a different direction.
That's why when I read the following story on one of my other email loops, I thought I'd share it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Unfortunately, there was no citation or I would have included it.