I don't know who needs to hear this, but the only one stopping you from disguising yourself as a shambling folk horror and learning the secret locations of all the libraries hidden in the forest is you.

Where are you at mentally?

I like the way you think.
I like the way you move through the world with an aura of darkness and cheap wine, leaving a trail of unread books and confusion in your wake.

I hope you have a nice night.
I hope you look at the stars with wonder.
I hope you're never lost in the catacombs without a lantern.
I hope you're always able to find room for one more book on your bookshelves.
I hope you feel at home in the forest, because you're always welcome there.

We're all trying to get by, in our own way.
And if your way involves books, strong tea, and secret meetings with the old gods in the mossy end of the forest, so much the better.

Dear Martha,
We were ill prepared for the darkness we have unleashed this day. The groundhog's shadow has breached the barricades and will soon engulf the town and countryside, and soon, I fear, will grow to consume the cosmos. Farewell my love.

Books are not clutter. Clutter is all the other stuff that gets in the way of having more books.

How do you like to travel?