The World as My Library

The libraries of the world are indeed our bookshelves.

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During my younger days, I used to hear some fascinating jokes. One playful exchange went like this:

Where do you live?

Well, I live in this world. The planet Earth is my home.

Is that your address?

In a way, yes. On the scale of the universe, Earth is just a tiny dot. So, I suppose you could call it my “address.”

Beyond its humor, this response carried a deeper implication – an aspiration to be a borderless wanderer. If the entire planet is my home, then I can belong anywhere on it. From this perspective, geopolitical disputes over small patches of land seem absurd. Why do we fight, and even kill each other, over mere fragments of our shared home, this tiny planet floating in the vastness of space?

A Teenage Perspective

As I grew older, I encountered another version of the same playful mindset, this time applied to books:

Can you show me the books you own?

Since the Earth is my home, all the libraries in the world are my bookshelves. Every book I can access and read is, in a way, mine.