Conundrum.

Conundrum.


The philosophy library in the Arts Tower was deserted at dusk. I flicked the light switch and moved towards the planks of wood the carpenters had left for new shelving.


I picked up a plank, balanced it on the top of my boots, then buttoned my maxi coat over it. Once out of the Arts Tower, I placed it under my arm and walked to Broomhill. After five trips, I had my supplies.


By daybreak, amidst a litter of wood shavings and split rawlplugs, I had a bookcase, although whether this was a stolen bookcase is a philosophical point.


Siobhan O’Sulivan.




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