I’d been a school librarian for more than five years before taking a job at a branch within the Washington, D.C., public library system for the last nine months of my career. The movie’s opening scene of homeless people rolling up their sleeping bags and lining up outside the still-locked doors of a library mirrored my own mornings. I would arrive 30 minutes before the branch opened and find at least 10 familiar people waiting — more on particularly cold or hot days — who had slept outside or just walked over from the shelters. There was Wayne, the recovering addict who called me "Kiddo” and held the door open for me so I wouldn't spill my coffee. There was Miss Cook, hissing and growling at her imaginary sister, and Ms. Yin, yelling about not being able to get in to get her work done — which was designing a spy café for the roof of the National Air and Space Museum at the behest of the FBI.

Source: Los Angeles Times April 19, 2019 16:52 UTC