2026-01-29 1685词 晦涩
When I was a child, every trip up the grubby A40 into London epitomised glamour. Then we’d pass a certain corner building site, the site of the future British Library, and my spirits would sink. Even I, a clueless hick, had heard of the architectural travesty concealed by those hoardings. How I pitied those poor books, being moved from the beautiful British Museum to this hideous, vaguely Japanese, red-brick barracks.
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