After several minutes pass, I enter the room, jauntily, with a large brightly-colored macaw on my shoulder.

The latest paper came, if you want to see it.

I place a newspaper down carefully on a wooden crate near you. Despite the curl it retains from having been rolled up, you can make out the name: the Morning Star. The newspaper smells noticeably of fish, and the seagull flies over to investigate it. It stands on the crate gazing down, looking for all the world as if it is absorbed by the top story.

How are you doing in here? Can I get you anything? No?

I transfer the macaw from my shoulder to the bird perch, and go to put away a book I am carrying. As I make a space for it on the shelf, you see that there is a picture of Mt. Denali on the cover. Eventually I stick it in next to a fat glossy book labeled Nunavut, and I plop myself down in the chair that you are not sitting in. The macaw ruffles its feathers, then smoothes them until they are just so. It clacks its bill with a saucy gleam in its eye.

I gaze around the Library for a few moments, my eyes coming to rest on the chessboardlike grid on the floor.

Striking, isn't it. Although perhaps not as much so as the one in the Blue Palace.

So what do you think of the island so far? Have you been outside much? I know, I know, it can be hard to get out of this house. There is so much here. But there is much outside as well.

You really should go out, wander around a bit. Some things on the island could hurt you, but they won't. The woods here still astonish me, even after all this time. Perhaps especially after all this time.

You also should see the rest of the Archipelago. Start with the First Island, where the Blue Palace is. You can get there from here by boat, or there are . . . other methods. I know that the First Island sucked me right in. It has better beaches for shell-collecting, anyway.

I smile.

This island has more trees, though. It resonates more with me. Wood and wings . . .

I contemplate the ceiling for several minutes. The macaw hops from its place on the perch to a lower rung, and thence to the ground. It walks across the floor, its claws clicking in the silence. It stands in front of the north door, and turns its head to look back at us, as if to say "Your move."

I stretch, and then get up. Turning in a slow circle, I survey the room.

At some point I am going to finish unpacking the latest shipment, but not today. Feel free to poke around in the crates, as long as you do not put anything on the shelves that came from a box. I am going to step out for a moment.

I walk to the north door and open it. The macaw walks out, and I follow it, hesitating for a second as the seagull suddenly flies out over my head. I close the door softly behind me, leaving you alone in the Library.

(Last remodeled 9/18/02002)