One of the first movies I remember seeing in theaters (yeah, THAT used to be a huge deal) was Walt Disney's Beauty and the Beast. You know the tired line about Belle wanting the prince, but I fell in love with the library? That line definitely applies.
But I remember the quick, angular face on angular face joining and knew it was a "kiss"--a weird smooch borne of Stockholm Syndrome and strange delirium wherein all the appliances come to life and convinced Belle that bestiality wasn't so bad. So yeah, a plastic peck.
The point is, I was glad as a small child to see Belle get her happy ending prince yadda yadda, but even more thrilled to know she would have access to that amazing library as long as she wished.
A library of that magnitude requires dedication, determination, time, tending. And as much as the bibliophile in me wants to believe that all of those items of the shelves were indeed books and not metaphors for people, I think I'm okay with an alternate reading of the library as living, breathing beings.
Our relationships require tending and time, and what I know of books is doubly true of people. And so, that is love.
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