He was walking through the slumbering house in the morning so early that the birds had hardly began to sing. The house was big, and echoing, but not in a loud and menacing way – but rather a hollow and somehow timeless way. He often woke up in the early morning like this, and wandered through the grass when it was filled with dew, and the early summer air was still cold enough after the night for his breath to create a fog in front of his face.
– skip these parts if you are here for the meeting between this mansion boi and an unknown library-dweller –
He didn’t like being in the house when he could hear the bustling and moving of the employees of the house, cooking, cleaning and decorating. He knew that he, his father and his mostly absent mother couldn’t/wouldn’t ever keep a mansion of this size clean and maintained without any servants, but he both disliked the crowdedness and the strange feeling of distance which was between him and the workers.
It wasn’t a time where class should matter to your value as a human being, it wasn’t the long passed time of servants being afraid of – and punished by – their employers. And when he was in the town, which was a few minutes away by car, he was just another nobody walking around, buying things and fussing about. But in that old timeless mansion there was this cold stagnation of time which just seemed to bring out the old stale courteousness of the employees and the mild superiority of the residents. The floor creaked under his foot and he realised he had been vacantly staring at the ceiling as he walked through the large hallway(if you could even call it that – it was that huge entrance room with grand staircases left and right and wide space open for 7 meters each side before walls and doors cut it off)’s stone tiled room and onto the old wooden floors of the library – which was maybe the size of four regular living-rooms.
–okay you can read again –
He stopped, and looked at the rows of book-shelves. He liked the library, the bookshelves created little private reading-departments with a lamp, a small table and a semi-comfortable chair between every fifth or so book-shelf. There were a few good books, but most of them were either educational books on incredibly niché and useless topics (like “The Book of Royally Approved house-plants”, or “A complete guide to renaissance etiquette” ).
Aside from that, there were a few fictional works which had been considered classics for a long time. ‘Gulliver’s Travels’, ‘Tarzan of the Apes’ and ‘The Illiad’.
-(****, bedtime, Gotta go)-