Little Moments Like That

Like a quiet hour in the stacks: finding the book I was looking for, getting pleasantly sidetracked along a long narrow aisle of Thackeray and another of linguistics, running cold fingers over etymologies and a little lone paperback lovingly dedicated to the perfection of English metre, sitting in the absolute absorbent silence of a carrel with Clarissa and a pencil.
Like the contented fetish of bibliography-making.
I knew there were reasons I was here.