The big box seemed closed to him. The stone walls formed a thick barrier around this fortress, and the iron gates were open yet uninviting. If he were to cross over onto the cobblestone and enter, he would see names he didn’t know: Homer, Herodotus, Sophocles, Plato, Aristotle. He would overhear the muttering of disenchantment so ubiquitous on campus. He would be enchanted.
But Shaun Abreu walked by every day on his way to work at the New York Public Library on Broadway and 113th Street. “I never walked inside the box—the cubicle—College Walk,” he recalls.
