This a hymn, this a weeping, for the sky themselves weep. And the rain falls like a curtain, and it never stops, never ever until the whole world is drowned in sorrow.

Can I rebuild again? Should I?

I was very distressed at this point, I think I had tears in my eyes. She said that maybe I'll understand it someday, I responded that I don't think I will.

A Librarian walked by; I won't describe her appearance to you, because if I think too long about the specifics I get a headache. I showed her the book that I failed to conquer and asked her what it's about. She responded with another word I could not comprehend.

I *knew* the Codex, I *knew* the words, but when i pulled my thread of thought towards it, all I felt was ̴͔̘̹̼̱͓̟͎̹̐̓̊́͐͊͗̒̓͘ ̷̧̡̧̨̠̦̭̘̟̦͎̩̩̭̫͖̏͒͊̍͜ ̵̛͇̖̮̰̃͋̓͛̓̿͘ ̸͉̗̱̙͇͍̯̭͕͉͈͉̭̩͕̑̔̍́͌͝ ̶̨̯̥̤̺͕̪̬̤̐̎̈́̎͌̇̂͘̚ ̴̲̜̘̄̊ͅ ̷͔͎̫̝̘̗̤͔̳̊̿ ̴̢̱̭̠̯͉͚̩͎̣̼̰̙̃͌̋͂̈́̈̍̔͠ ̷̖̰͔͕̹͚̜̱̻̙̻̮̈́͛̿ ̵̛̪͎̼̱͖̼̭͎̤̰̱͙̳͚͓͉̖̃̌̐͒̋͒̎̇̆̎̒̔̕͘ ̵̥̅̐̌͑͝ ̴̛͖̳̝̘͈͔͇̗̫̃̀̆̉̐̈́̓̿̓͌̈́́̚͘͠

So I grabbed a random tome and started reading syllable by syllable, word by word.

And occasionally there would be a word I could understand.

But mostly there were words that I didn't

Now this isn't a grave sin by any means, it's just that the portions of the Library that stretch infinitely beyond my area seem to....defy expectations.

Yes I think that's the best way to translate that. That might be another reason why I'm so attracted to those places.

No matter how tiny it is, we all leave our mark on the world.

And there will be someone, at the end of time, who will put that mark in it's rightful place.

In the Library.

You might think it a strange thing to preserve, an unfortunate life etched into stone forever.

But the work of the Library is not preservation, it is categorization.

By living their life, this person had already etched their being into the stone of reality, forever.

This person was a perpetual misfit, who never knew themselves and never knew another. Who lived life under a mask, and it made them miserable.

A bold soul shackled by the mundane of life.

Other times I open one, and it's the detailed life of an ordinary person. Their loves, their hates, their ups, their downs.

That's one of the books I picked up in this sudden whim of discovery. A book about a person.

It lasted for a few minutes and then it stopped. It was the first and only sound I've heard in the Library. I asked my senior who was singing, she did not respond.

My senior's area for example, includes all 20 of my rooms plus 2 more rooms that she can comprehend but I cannot.

I see plenty of other librarians entering my area too. I think I have management over a simpler part of The Library

I really only go between one or two rooms. I still catch a glimpse of other librarians wandering around though. The Library's administrative structure is loose. Many Librarian's areas overlap with each other.

And so the Librarians don't really bother with tenses. The Library exists in one everpresent moment

So it does not matter if what came after came before, or what came before came after. I shall wander, write and read today. I wandered, wrote, and read yesterday. I will wander, write and read tomorrow. Does it really matter if the order is forwards or backwards?

Really the only way to tell if time is moving backwards or forwards is entropy. Entropy increases over time. But The Library has no entropy, The Library is a fixture, eternal.

We don't really like to think about it, but Time is sort of a human conception. What came before, what came after. It's a concept because it's useful distinction to have.