I love new things, but there's something about old things. Many of the new things are made/built/assembled by machines. Most of the old things involved sweat.

This is the hulk of the old Dora Library. It was built by local craftsmen during the Great Depression. Civilian Conservation Corps workers excavated rock from the surrounding hills and hollows and hauled them on-site with mule-drawn wagons. 

I was in grammar school the last time I was there. The librarian was an older woman who looked harshly over her glasses if you talked. 

 It fell in disuse in the early 60s when the town moved to the highway. Soon, it was only a fond memory that smelled of old books, and reverberating clicking sounds when people walked from shelves to the checkout desk. 

I always felt as though I was doing something important when I spent time there.