Unconfirmed Reports

I was in downtown Boston yesterday evening, walking back to my hotel. It was just after a company dinner - I was totally exhausted, jetlagged, hadn’t slept well in days. On the clock it said 9pm, but in my head it was 3am. But one thing was enough to make me pause: on the side of a church, I saw a sign saying BOOKS, pointing down an iron stairway. At the bottom of the stairs I could see an open doorway. I needed a new (or old) book.

So I went down the stairs and poked my head through the doorway. Beyond a small “antechamber” was another doorway, again with a large sign BOOKS and an arrow pointing through the door. So I advanced, through the second door. I now found myself in a smallish room, aglow with white neon lighting. The room was full of boxes of bananas, and a few odd things like brooms and old chairs. There was no-one around. (I checked carefully, behind the door and behind all the boxes of bananas.) There were lots of boxes of bananas, a rich plenty. But no BOOKS, none at all. I took a banana and left.

I am tempted to see this experience as meaningful. No doubt some will say that this is an erroneous projection of personal feelings onto the material world… but who can be sure? We should in fact make things meaningful whenever we can.