I get to go behind the curtain, behind the shelving, behind the “No Admittance” and “Personal Only” doors. Up the stairs passed the red velvet ropes, and off the marked trails.
I get to hear the academic stories and the personal tales.
I get to sift through photos of grandparents and of uncles of people I’ll never meet.
I’ve become an armchair expert of many very small specific histories.
I get to go behind the curtain.