A ban don

Walked past the public library branch down the street from me. A small branch, to be sure, with many shelves dedicated to books not in English. It serves a particular neighbourhood, you see.

Walked past it, saw boxes and boxes and garbage bag upon garbage bag of books left out as trash on the curb. The sight punched me in the face. I didn't know what to think, so I didn't. Think. Instead I felt. Sad. Shocked.

I started prying books out of a partially open box. The first one I held in my hands was called "A Samurai Never Fears Death," a book co-written by two people with identical, non-Asian last names. I stared at it for a while, wondering if I should take it home. Then I put it back, pried out a couple other books under it. Put them back.

I wish I had a house so I could take all of them with me, but unfortunately I am a poor loser who moves from rented apartment to rented apartment every year. You see, poor people cannot change the world, or the community.