There was an old house.No more than four blocks as the crow flies. Probably six as the fox.It was filled with books. It was also a library. The Houston Memorial Library. I don’t know what I was to memorialize there. Maybe a confederate general.They had book sales every now and then. Those sales felt the best when the fall light was coming in the windows. Cutting through the dust on the glass case. The case that had guns. Knives. A leather kidney-shaped canteen. We’d have walked over, … [Read more...]