I remember, as a child, the confusion of not knowing what this place was where I was supposed to spend the night: it's a disquieting experience for a child. And what I would do was quickly unpack my books and go back to a book I knew well and make sure the same text and the same illustrations were there.

Readers are bullied in schoolyards and in locker-rooms as much as in government offices and prisons.

Maybe this is why we read, and why in moments of darkness we return to books: to find words for what we already know.

Old books that we have known but not possessed cross our path and invite themselves over. New books try to seduce us daily with tempting titles and tantalizing covers.

One book calls to another unexpectedly, creating alliances across different cultures and centuries.

My books hold between their covers every story I've ever known and still remember, or have now forgotten, or may one day read; they fill the space around me with ancient and new voices.

Existing libraries, in their very being, seem to question the authority of those in power.