I can still vividly recall the smells of fresh-baked bread, coffee, tea, and books. The noise of four or five people in relative close proximity, reading their own books, thumbing through notes, jotting down their own stories.
Though my past has been rather crappy, it is the memories like this that have the strongest impact on me.
I miss the cosiness of closeness with others who were doing similar things. No technology but books, pens, pencils, paper. Just hot drinks, fresh bread, and good company.
When I lived in a commune, we had a shared library. In order to take a book from it to read, you had to bring another book to keep its spot warm. You could take the book back when you returned the one you borrowed, but nobody really did that.
The size of the book room was monstrous, and I am still angry that the government bent the law for a rich asshole, to get us evicted in an illegal timeframe, so he could sell the building we were lawfully renting from him.
I aspire to live where a shared library like that exists again.
Data thaumaturge, code necromancer. Daughter of the Gutterphreaks.
A bunch of technomancers in the fediverse. Keep it fairly clean please. This arcology is for all who wash up upon it's digital shore.