Three years ago, The Story Station started with a handful of books and a lot of hope. We didn’t know if anyone would find us. Or if they’d care. But then you did.
And like Clarisse whispering to Montag, “Do you ever read the books you burn?”, your attention made something spark. The kind of spark that starts change. Or at the very least, starts something worth following.
So here we are. A little older. A little dog-eared. And absolutely still in love with books.
We’ve packed Sylvia Plath and Zora Neale Hurston into courier bags. Watched The Bell Jar sell within minutes. Watched Disgrace get a second chance. We've seen the bookmarks of other lives: a shopping list inside Mrs Dalloway, a breakup note tucked between the pages of The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Small ruins. Beautiful ones.
Secondhand doesn’t mean second best. It means the story already knows how to survive.