The reserve is like a book. The book is like a reserve.
            This is a metaphor.
            The reserve is a book. The book is a reserve.
            This is an exaggeration. 
            What is between a metaphor and an exaggeration?
            
            A book
                is standing on the shelf. It is pushed in between other
                books. Somebody has chosen it. Right this one – due to
                some reasons. Takes it and
                begins to read. Does not dog-ear. Does not
                lick the finger. Has
                clean hands and makes no greasy fingerprints on paper.
                However not greasy
                fingerprints have been left because he doesn't wear
                white cotton gloves. Well, even white cotton gloves
                would make prints. Ultimately, if the number of such
                clean readers was big enough, the book would be worn out. Thousands of
                the most delicate openings and page turnings, and
                thousands of gentle touches will cause the total
                destruction (of course, it is important if this
                destruction takes place earlier or later). And there
                are people who like to match or underline something.
                There are people who like to make notes on margins.
                There are people who turn down page corners not to get
                lost in the labyrinth of the story. There are people who
                can easily tear a page away, for various reasons, often
                contradictory. There are also people who would destroy a
                book with great passion (and they often do so),
                regarding it more dangerous than plague germs, more poisonous than
                jararaca's venom. There are
                many more of them. They are so numerous they can
                be hardly mentioned, unless one is
                ready to devote time, or even life, to make a full list…
            
            So, it would be better, if nobody read the book. Or only
            somebody who would make no harm to it. However it is not
            known what such harm would consist in. But what would the
            book be written for if nobody was going to read it? Would
            the following comparison be justified: what would the forest
            grow for if nobody was going to walk across it? The forest
            is growing. That's all. That's enough. Can the same be
            written about the book, or would it be an exaggeration to
            think so?
            
            And if a library would be a reserve? The reserve of books?
            Or of itself, of a certain way of life which is sliding into
            oblivion? If one day in the future we finally learn to read
            the world, will we need books any more? Will we need a
            walking stick when we walk beautifully? Oh, sooner, much
            sooner we will be illiterate making out of libraries (and of
            books) inconceivable edifices of tenebrous function.
            
            And if LIBERLAND
            is a reserve? What reserve?