A library, black as pitch. Prystine books slumber, their pages forever free of human hands. No footfall here, no climbing to reach that prize on the uppermost shelf. No coughs nor sneezes, no diseases. Patiently, the books stand, waiting to be read.
The flick of a switch illuminates row upon row of books. A reader, device of choice in hand, scrolls through his virtual library, selects and reads. A library in your pocket, handbag or on your PC. Technology, the march of progress. Yet, somewhere still, real shelves groan with books, their pages dog eared through constant use. A man coughs and, wiping dust off a beloved tome sits, drinks in the scent of books and reads.
Data on paper or virtual data both, in their way are real.