Two years ago, during the lockdown, I wrote that I had become addicted to those little bird-box libraries that make walking here something of a literary pilgrimage.
I’m still addicted. And almost two months ago, just before the writers strike began, I made a charming discovery–that one of my neighbors is a Very Famous Writer– all thanks to his sidewalk library.
The writer will remain unnamed, because privacy is something to be respected, even by reporters. But here’s the short form: About four o’clock one afternoon, before the dog-crowd comes out, I felt a need for one of those short, head-clearing walks.
A good target, I figured, would be a spot some blocks away, where somebody or other was maintaining what I’d long thought was the best little library in town.
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