A Heartful Awakening

The library was never open.

An oddity in this day and age, but then again the town of Boulogne was an oddity in itself. The town was much larger than it appeared to be at first glance. It was a city of sorts, named for the main street that ran through it. The main street cut across the entire waterway down which the ocean flowed and split into two branches on either side of the main island. The land that had been created by the widening of the river was called "the left" and "the right" as though they were arms reaching out from a shoulder. The island was not large enough to support habitation, so the only buildings there were warehouses and storage facilities which served as a sort of no-man's land between the two halves of the city. Most people stayed on one side or the other, but I myself preferred staying in a small hotel on "the left."

When I first arrived in Boulogne, I had hoped to stay with a friend who lived closer to the center of town. Unfortunately, my friend had married and moved away some years ago, and his wife had taken over his house after he died. She didn't want me anywhere near her home, hell she wouldn't even take my calls. So I'd spent most of my time eating dinner at a local restaurant where I met an old man who worked as a waiter there, who told me all about Boulogne's history after he realized that I hadn't heard any of it before arriving here myself. He'd encouraged me to visit the library on "the right," where he claimed that there were books which held all sorts of fascinating stories about things that had happened throughout history. His description made it sound like a truly magical place, but when I asked him to show me where it was, he looked at me with confusion and said that he didn't know what I was talking about because there wasn't any library on "the right." That's when he told me about how Boulogne had been built on an inland sea hundreds and hundreds of years ago and how everyone who lived here had somehow forgotten about that fact until recently when an old map turned up in an antique store on "the left." He went on to tell me how the residents of Boulogne were still trying to figure out how their ancestors could have forgotten something so important, but his voice trailed off as soon as he mentioned it because one thing he didn't know how to talk about was death. So we eventually talked our way back around to talking about food instead and we ate dinner together every night after work for weeks before he finally broke down in tears over dessert one night and told me that his son had been killed just before my arrival in town. He said he felt like it wasn't even real anymore because no one else seemed bothered by it at all anymore, so he hoped that I would take him somewhere else where things felt more real than they did here. And so we traveled together until we reached Italy where we met a woman in a cafe who told us all about how she'd seen her father walk right past her on his way to work one day even though she knew for certain that he'd passed away years earlier. And then she showed us how she baked bread by putting dough into an oven which would make it rise into loaves without ever lighting a fire inside or turning it on or anything at all really. It was magic she said, but not like what you're thinking because no spells or incantations or anything were required for the bread to emerge from the oven looking exactly as it would have if someone had actually baked it in an ordinary oven. It was just magic she kept saying over and over again, but not like what you're thinking because no incantations or spells were required for its creation either. And then she gave us bread samples while explaining how she started each loaf off by dipping her hands into flour before using them to make handprints with wet paint onto dry clay tablets which eventually came alive thanks to ancient spirits trapped within them since long before mankind walked this earth...

And so my travels continued until I found myself here in Boulogne with no idea why exactly I'd come or why exactly I hadn't left yet either...

There wasn't much in terms of entertainment here anymore since most people seemed more interested in working than playing these days except for those who chose instead to follow their passions wherever they might lead them. There used to be music performances downtown every week at least according to my waiter friend from years ago but now those seemed largely confined to places like "the left" across from where I was staying instead...

I once tried crossing over there after dinner one night but couldn't find any signs pointing towards any venues where music might be played anywhere nearby anywhere at all... So instead I headed towards my hotel room alone after dinner instead...

And then suddenly there was music filling up the entire hallway outside my door... Most people probably wouldn't have noticed anything unusual about this except for the fact that some nights seemed louder than others and nobody else ever seemed bothered by this strange inconsistency at all... One loud night followed another without fail until eventually it wasn't just my door anymore either... No matter where I walked in town eventually I would hear music wherever I went too loud enough now most days that even asking people if they thought something strange was going on just resulted in blank stares when they turned towards me with confusion written across their faces because they themselves didn't seem bothered by anything unusual happening either... And so finally one day I decided to ask someone if they knew what could possibly be causing this strange phenomenon after work instead... But when I did many people got angry with me instead telling me that things weren't strange at all here because nothing unusual had ever happened for anyone here before now meaning everyone here knew perfectly well what kinds of things were considered normal here meaning why should anyone bother changing anything? And then they let me know that if someone wanted something different from life then perhaps they should consider leaving town instead so as not to upset anyone else while doing so because this wasn't really an ideal place for people like me anyway... And then they kicked me out of town right then and there never bothering to tell anyone else why things suddenly changed like they did after that day never bothering with polite conversation again or offering anyone else jobs or homes or friendships either meaning everyone went back home alone whenever their shift ended instead leaving their neighbors behind locked doors waiting for whatever special thing meant only for them whenever it finally arrived instead which kept happening over and over again until everyone stopped bothering showing up altogether unless someone bothered knocking first... Until one day no one did anymore meaning everything got quieter again until finally everything got quiet enough again that nobody bothered knocking anymore either meaning everyone slowly forgot about everything entirely including whatever special thing meant only for them until someone remembered again just because sometimes silence means more than words ever can too much later wondering if someone might remember them too someday if only they could figure out who exactly is supposed to do so when nothing is ever quite as simple as it seems sometimes especially since silence can sometimes mean more than words ever can too especially when people don't bother knocking anymore which means they don't care anymore because silence can also mean more than words ever can too when people don't bother knocking anymore which means sometimes forgetting happens faster than remembering does too when nothing is ever quite as simple as it seems sometimes especially since silence can sometimes mean more than words ever can too..."