Two houses down on my street, there is a pretty run-down house. The previous inhabitants had been evicted a few weeks ago, and had continued living there even after there was no electricity or running water. The house itself was condemned. Homeless people found shelter there, and there was drug paraphernalia littered on the ground. Or so I heard.
The door wasn't locked this Saturday, and I decided to look inside. What used to be someone's home was trashed. Food, trash, papers, photographs, pillows, toys, kitchen stuff, a computer- all scattered about on the carpet. I looked in the garage and found an even bigger mess.
It surprised me to find- however- so many books around the house. Old books. Books on psychology, statistics, calculus, theology, English, fiction, non-fiction. Why would a condemned drug-house hold so many cardboard boxes and shelves full of books?
Later that day, my father answered this question. The woman who had been evicted had lived there as a child. Her father was a professor of psychology.
Seeing as these books were collecting dust, I took a good number of them home with me. The ones that caught my eye. Philosophy books, old novels. Some of the books I found are OLD. I found "Book of Fables", a book printed in 1883. I found a leather-bound "Complete Works of Shakespeare" from 1925.
Call me a book worm. I'm going back today to find more.
It's not everyday you find treasure in a drug-house.
No comments:
Post a Comment