The room looks and smells not too different from the library in the middle school I attended while growing up.  Walls lined with books.  A floor covered with short, blue looped carpet.  Encouraging posters dominated by animals reading books are pasted to any wall without shelves.  Florescent lights buzz overhead.  The room smells like books do when the humidity from hot Chicago summers seeps into their pages and yellows them.  Missing are any of the trappings one finds in school libraries these days.  No computers or technology of any sort.  A typical, old school library; except this one isn’t in any school building. It’s on the lower level of a juvenile prison. Continue reading “When a Clown Loves You”