Dappling sunlight on stone, empty staircases that curl in time upwards revealing a high roof looking down on curling stairs dappled with light and empty of sound or movement other than flickering beams holding the peace and the space and the air filled with memories.
Wood warm to the touch of your palms, smooth under the skin, amber, sandy, dark. Parquet underfoot, smooth and shiny and worn by feet over years or walking, strolling, pausing to look at shelves unreadable, books untouchable, ancient and set and decaying.
Dim lamps, suspended, doubly tiered hanging, lighting not for reading but gazing and strolling across wooden floors looking at gilded pages leading to dappling light through dusty panes showing grey Manchester sky.
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