“You must be very, very quiet here, people are reading,” said the old woman to the little boy.

But the little boy’s shoes squeaked and everyone in the library turned to look at him.  And all the words in all the heads of all the people reading jumped into the air, and the pictures the words had drawn lit up the room, flashing them like blinking Christmas lights on the walls and the ceiling and all the pictures moved and lived and breathed together and became a giant world tumbling around itself, spinning faster and faster.  10 times faster than the earth and in no time at all the little boy was an old man and all alone in the library.  100 years had passed before he blinked his eyes and finally stopped all the Christmas lights, freezing them mid-breath on the walls and ceiling.  

And a young woman walked into the library with a little girl by her side.  And the old man who had once been a little boy put a finger to his lips and kneeled down on his creaky knees next to the little girl and said, “You must be very, very quiet here, though no one is reading.  The words that used to live are waiting for you to dream them back to breathing.  Take off your shoes and follow me.”  

And the little girl put her hand in his and they walked to the bookshelves and picked up the first book they found and when the first sentence of the first page entered the little girl’s mind it walked down to the edges of her heart and its beating flung the words up onto the walls and the ceiling and the old man who once was a little boy said, “Don’t forget.  Tell everyone who opens that door.” 

And the little girl nodded in her bare feet and said, “I promise.”