No Day a-Dawning

It might be a library.

Might.

There are books there, you CAN borrow them and I have one to return.

One that I borrowed from someone who borrowed one from here, and which I feel incumbent to return.

I show it to the woman at the gate who is asking for I.D.

She tells me to put it on the ‘internet table’.

I cross a courtyard, trees and plants grow in abundance and I am in a park.

A stately home.

A forgotten corner of a half-remembered city that has never existed.

Except in a dream.

It might be a library.

Yet, you can buy shark poison here.

And rope.

And cobwebs it seems.

They have a lot of cobwebs.

A friend greets me enthusiastically, he is leaving by plane in the morning and I owe him money.

We walk together. I am looking for books; he is hoping for cash.

There are a lot of wools, cottons, knitting needles and a room with walls that are so high the sunlight only reaches the upper parts.

This is where the rope is displayed.

In one corner there are photographs covered in a thick layer of dust that make it impossible to see the image.

One is of me.

So I get up.

It’s 4:30 am.

Again.

No new day a-dawning.

Just the night.