Remember, Remember,
The nights before September,
When taking an author to bed, felt soft and tender,
And between the covers, lay our greatest defender,
T’was a time, without the Vainly Ignorant Pretender.
Remember, Remember,
The Knights before surrender,
For a battle lost, over creaking timber,
When memories burned, with smells of ember,
Never to be forgotten, upon the death of December.
Credit to the 1600s English folk rhyme I heard when watching V for Vendetta
What we have here is roughly half of my collection I captured of The Sylvia Beach Hotel.
I am deeply disturbed that I still cannot find my other device, which I used as physical storage for photos and videos from last summer. It contained so much more documentation of SBH and life at the time. In time, and on A Blog Cut Into Slices, I will give the deeper reasonings of what SBH meant to me personally. For now, trust that passion eclipses my short span of patronage, and in time I find a way to will build a new SBH—housed in a new body, yet wearing the same soul.