`*clinks glass*`
greetings to all the newbies and oldbies alike, he says as he walks in from the cold and stomps the snow off his boots. in this corner of the pub, by the bookshelf, there is a warm atmosphere, a glow like a fireplace, not boisterous or overbearing, but simply warm and well. the welcome of the books is comforting; someone keeps up this corner, someone who cares. it is to these places we gather—those marked by care and fellow-feeling.
he pulls a book from the shelf, not knowing which. it is enough to have something to browse with a warm espresso. it looks like something deep; something by Adler. as he takes a sip, the door opens and his napkin is caught in a draft from outside. a fellow patron catches it and replaces it, and he offers thanks. thanks, he thinks; thanksgiving. it has been that time again, a time of warmth and welcome as a season of bitter cold approaches. even those who have next to nothing can be thankful, he thinks, as he peers across to a duo of patrons - a regular and his friend who lives in the park nearby. it is good for them to be inside, he thinks, sharing drinks and a laugh or two in a warm pub on such a miserable day.
the gentle clink of cups and cutlery, and the murmur of conversation. it is here we gather.
How appropriate that it's a book by Adler, in a post about socializing and community.