Amesbury Park (1967) rested in front of a grassy mound of parkland on the south side of Lawrence Avenue West. Its interior had the care-worn look of a neighbourhood facility in high demand, as exemplified by a red bench with stuffing bursting out of large tears in its upholstery. This hapless seat was situated on the other side of a curved purple screen which marked the dividing line between the lobby and the Children’s area.
Someone had carved an open porthole in the wave-shaped divider, inviting patrons to imagine a submarine universe. Walls in dark blue, yellow, and olive green supported the underwater theme, for these colours would wave and blend together nicely beneath the sea. Illuminating our marine garden were two triangular skylights and five large windows that faced the park’s footpath.
As the photographs above demonstrate, triangle shapes abounded in this purposeful yet relaxed parkside branch. However, lest I completely float off in a reverie of sunlight and triangles, let me mention the large ESL section and offerings in French, Gujarati, Hindi, Italian, Spanish, Tamil, and Vietnamese. Two trolleys of withdrawn library books for sale attracted lots of interest, and every table hosted learners absorbed in their studies.
When I crouched down to examine the spine of a romance novel called Armed and Devastating, the lights went off for a few moments, signaling the library’s imminent closure. I enjoyed the brief bath of natural light — silver and blue on a late autumn afternoon — and reluctantly gathered up my notebook and book sale items. I left Amesbury Park, my eighty-sixth branch, with the sense of an afternoon well-spent.
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