I drive Highway 287 six hours a week at a minimum. It's the prettiest commute I've ever had, but it helps that I like looking at farmland and the mountains. About a month ago, 3 or 4 books were flapping in the wind in the median just before Lafayette. I thought a student might have forgotten his or her books on top of their car, or maybe a box fell off the back of a truck during someone's move. But that wouldn't explain why there were a few more books the next day, then a couple more. Now the books are gracing the road's no man's land for about a half mile stretch. Some books are belly up, with brown pages blowing back and forth like an invisible thumb is flipping through the pages. Others have a fresher look and seem intact. Today is the first day I've seen loose pages blowing around.
This picture doesn't show the real number of books, but it was the best I could do.
I'm having a real hard time not going back, at some low-traffic time, to read the titles. I really, really want to know what these discards are all about.
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