The Reading Shelter - A Universal Necessity

The Reading Shelter - something that has grown so close to my heart and my soul. Something I have been so busy with creating, that I almost missed the chance to enjoy it and realize how much I love and need it. Right now, it is morning in Hamburg. The Reading Shelter is closed, and while every time a curious person stops at our window to study our lovingly put together texts, books and objects, I feel like I want to walk to the door, unlock it, step outside and invite them in. But luckily today I picked a seat far from the door and I can resist rushing over there and that way, I stay alone in the Reading Shelter, that is covered in spots of daylight this morning and it becomes to me: my writing shelter. There is something very special about the connection of the concept of the Reading Shelter and this big unrenovated former toy shop that we are in. The aura they form is so special and while there were moments I was looking forward to the RS to be over, so that I can take back control over my other duties, I realize it should not stop. This beautiful place that people have just discovered, this possibility and inspiration they just discovered with it, and are still discovering now, should not end. 

The Reading Shelter - something I appropriated from my lover because he willingly let me. Because we knew that together we could make this, what it has become. I have never felt so much potential around me. This thing, this place, this idea is beautiful, smart and necessary in so many ways and I believe very strongly that we could keep going with it indefinitely and it would keep fascinating us and all the people being part of it.

The Reading Shelter - this month, a neighbour to a childrens’ bookstore. And this is more than just a well matching neighbour. We have been clients of this book store way before we had the Reading Shelter here and even before we had a kid. People often, very often, come by here and it breaks their heart to see that the toy store is gone. They wonder who or what is responsible for the loss of the shop which holds some of their dearest memories: The landlord? the gentrification? The Reading Shelter? It was retirement and if I understood right, no one to take over the shop. I personally don’t have this connection with the toy store. It somehow didn’t speak to me that much, their shop window somehow never made me curious to actually enter, although I often passed by and spend lots and lots of money on books next door over the years that I lived in this neighbourhood. However, I can connect to the feeling many people seem to have about it when I imagine that the book store would close. When I look at the shop window of the book store it makes me feel happy. I want to go inside and sit amongst all these books and flip through the pages, read, and go through the difficulty of picking only one or two or maybe three books. I think books and art supplies are the two things I never feel bad about spending money on. It sounds romantic, and it is, but it is the truth. 

It was a book that I got on every possible occasion from my mother. Christmas, Easter, Birthday, Spring holidays, Autumn holidays. Ever time my mother came around with a book she had picked for me and one for my siblings each. They were always wrapped as gifts. I remember on Christmas, among the books and toys were also clothes wrapped as gifts, and I thought “Why would that count as a gift?! I’d rather exchange it for a toy. Clothes is something that we needed and got anyways.” Like food. I didn’t get a breakfast or lunch wrapped in gift paper under the Christmas tree. I remember not being certain whether I wanted to shove books into one or the other category, as adorable as a toy or as a necessity like clothes.

Now everything has shifted. I wouldn’t mind getting clothes as a gift, as long as no one else would choose them for me, obviously. I also wouldn’t mind food. I guess all these things become our sort of toys when we grow up. But a book can be all of these things. It nurtures me, it speaks to my appetite, fills the hole in my belly. It dresses me in thoughts and ideas that shield me and keep me warm when things around me get wet and windy. And it makes me playful, with my language, with the stories I witness or am part of. And now I am the curator of books for others as co-host of the reading shelter, as an aunt and as a mother. I pick books for others. I pick food, clothes, toys - i pick books. When I was young and hadn’t dared yet to disbelieve the concept of “Allgemeinwissen”, I used to think that there was certain things everyone should know, certain music you should listen to if you were cool and certain books to read if you were smart. Now I think the smartest thing is to follow your own lead and don’t ever hang on to a book, a film or a class that you find boring. Stop it, leave it, close the book and dedicate to something that feels alive, read words that make you take deep breaths, pages that make you pause between them just to press the book to your heart. When I am writing about my personal experience, it is not because I believe it is unique and therefore special. I am writing because I know the bad I am going through, the beauty I experience and the bold humour of everyday life that come my way, are universal - and therefore special.

by Ali Quaiesa 

2022 April