That reminds me of the time that I spent on a First Nation. I would often walk to the bush with a book in hand to enjoy a peaceful hour or two of reading, as well as watch the goings-on on the lake. Almost every day a couple of kindergarten aged children would race up to me as I approached a shady corner and insist upon getting their fix of words. I swear those kids would have paid a quarter for the privilege, thus allowing me to become the town's illicit book dealer.