Everybody, or almost everybody, knows what igloo is. Nobody, or almost nobody knows what libloo is. Well, libloo is a traditional Liberlish house. Like any traditional house, or the one which is not a result of a design, or completion of somebody's more or less crazy vision, it didn't look at once, right in the beginning, as it looks now, and with no doubt it will look differently in the future.
So, what makes it to look the way it looks like, it will look like, and it looked like? (This question is asked maybe a bit too in advance since Liberland is a state with unclear history, enough misty to say it has no history at all, although such a statement would be too risky, it would be more a metaphor than a statement, rather a desire-imagination-expectation...) With no doubt climate was one of the basic factors causing libloo to appear, climate enough naughty and mean that the number of days when we feel cold is much bigger than the number of days when we feel warm. That's why heating is necessary. This fact eliminates the first, seemingly the most basic question: to heat or not to heat? We can skip to next question, also very fundamental: how to heat?
Right here and right now an interesting subbasic question could appear: to heat myself or to heat the whole state? In the case when “I am the State” the answer is of no importance, since the question has no sense at all. In the case when “I am not the State” (then who is: we? they? you? he? she?) the question is extremely interesting – it should be considered whether it is better, instead of forcing the citizens to bother about various systems of heat production and of preventing its loss, to install additional sun which would warm better the whole state thus making all heaters, boilers, stoves and insulating materials worthless, useless and not needed; of course we should stop in advance all speculations saying clearly that a sun-king, a boss-sun, a god-sun or sun-god, or just anybody-sun would not suffice.
The answer is very simple: the best heating is to heat for free and if it is impossible then the best heating is the cheapest heating. Of course, the most radical solution of this issue should be considered at first, it means to settle in a country warm enough to make heating absolutely unnecessary. However, this is not so simple as it may seem at first, because moving to a warm country can generate quite high costs of any kind. So, a cheaper solution must be find, no doubt. It looks like the Tybetian meditation technique called tumo should be on the top of such a list never made before. Using this technique we can sit naked on a glacier and we feel warm. More, we can even melt some ice and snow around us, so we heat not only ourselves but the nearest surroundings as well. Thus the cost is negative – if we only knew how we can store the surplus of heat, we would have a chance to sell it later.... What for? What would we spend the money for? Well, maybe charity? If so, why couldn't we give the heat itself, and not bother selling it. Unfortunately, the reality is not that nice, and being a man-heater, a man-stove, is not an easy game to play. The fundamental problem is that such self-heating results in total paralyse: we can do nothing else but self-heating. Everybody can easily imagine the following situation: we are sitting on the glacier, frosty furious blizzard around, while we are reading a book feeling so warm and comfortable – forget it at once, nothing like that can happen. Self-heating is a very very hard work.
What seemed to be an ideal solution, has turned out to be the opposite. Do we really need warmth that we can't use? Has it any sense to be in the state I-feel-warm, when we can do nothing else beside feeling warm? We can paraphrase a well know saying: this is warmth for warmth only. It's better to feel cold a little and to be able to do various things. A few knee bends, for example, and then a cup of hot tea ...... If the free heating turned out to be very expensive, a different solution has to be found.
Here it is, based on very similar principle of endogenous warmth, or rather mental, intellectual, warmth: read books on hot countries. Or to read books which make our cheeks burn. But do not read books which make us shivering. No, shivers are not needed, we have enough shivers of various kind in the real life. The shortcomings of this method are clear and don't need any explanations. Surely we can improve this method reading such books under warm feather quilt – well, but how long can we keep lying in that way? Or we can go to a warm reading room in a warm library – but how can we get there when heavy rain is slashing our face and chill penetrates us to the marrow of our bones?
Here another doubt appears. To be able to heat ourselves for free reading books on warm countries and on warm things in general we must possess such books. So, at first we have to invest quite a lot in our book collection. Yes, that's right, but we must remember that we will not invest in coal, gas, electricity, wood or briquette, either. In this very moment a temptation is appearing, a temptation coming from awareness of enormous overproduction of books, that we could use books as fuel. This is extremely controversial temptation, although when analysed more thoroughly, it looks like most controversial is its controversiality. There is huge amount of stupid books which shouldn't be put on shelves but into stove, because stove seems definitely a better place for them than a shelf... OK. Take it easy. Writing frankly it's idiotic to be busy with book segregation. A technical problem is much more important than this moral-ideological problem. Well, unlike it may seem, books don't burn well – closed don't let oxygen in. We should tear away page by page and this is time consuming and toilsome, though quite well warming up.
By the way and on the margin and quite surprisingly it should be stated that although book burning is regarded as indignant, intolerable, unacceptable, book recycling does not make us protest zealously – it's interesting: why changing wise and stupid books into paper pulp and producing out of it new stupid and wise books is considered worth doing and incomparably more valuable than turning the mass of wise and stupid books irreversibly into nice and desirable warmth?
It's much easier to take newspapers. They burn excellently, it could be even said they made fantastic carrier as fire-raisers, as tinder. It's strange that newspaper burning causes no moral and ideological anxieties at all, no remorse, even the slightest one, while it happens, quite often, that texts in newspapers can be of better quality and more valuable than many a text in many a book. Nevertheless this remark is not a contradiction to another remark made by a famous poet who once called journalism “the ashes of literature”. Maybe this is why newspapers burn so much better than books (it is known that the quality of burning is inversely proportional to the quality of paper – it's interesting whether it is proportional to the quality of printed text; I'm afraid nobody has explored this problem so far). Alas, they keep burning so short. Thus they can't be qualified as a useful fuel. Like books. But the question of heating is first of all the question of insulation, it means how to keep the produced heat.
That's it. A book seems excellent, perfect, insulation material, though nobody has tested books in this regard and counted the value of coefficient k. (Of course there have been no tests to find the relations between the insulating value of a book and the value of text this book contains.) An igloo is made of frozen snow – a libloo is made of books. Thick walls made of double rows of books accessible from both sides, from inside and from outside. A cottage (a bookage?) of no specific form, but usually built on a plan of a letter, sign, hieroglyph or ideogram. With clumsy, lopsided walls of irregular thickness, dry so that books-bricks-stones can be taken out though not easily and not safely. Only books. Nothing but books. All books thick and thin. One on the other. One beside the other. Certainly, more complicated constructions, on a plan of word or phrase, are possible. However they survive rarely, because they crumble away easily – in fact it is never known if such edifices are the result of planning, of conscious activity or they appear just by accident, haphazardly. A letter is much more stable, unless it has some diacritic signs which can easily be torn away and lost – who cares about all those dots, strokes, caps and hooks? Functionality is not the strong point of the traditional Liberlish architecture (if writing about any tradition has any sense in the case of anything Liberlish). For example windows, or lighting. There are no normal, openable, windows, due to the construction of the wall. There can be only slit-windows. On different levels. Vertical or horizontal, depending on how books are put, in piles or in rows... Well, such slit lighting is not really bad, can provide very interesting effects inside – however you can't expect wide views and vistas through such windows; this is not a big problem since you can replace views with fantastic gorgeous descriptions, more, every day you can have different view-description that you have never seen-read before. The door problem is much more serious. Let's imagine cottages having the outlines of
o b p q d g
Where are the doors? You can't get in. It looks as if someone was building them from inside, it means was building the book wall around himself, closing himself in a libloory without exit.
e is different. e is a half-open diagram. Or half-closed. While s and n look as if they were lacking one wall, or two walls. K and L, even more, while I seems to have no walls. Have insulating and heating any sense in such case? Or maybe they are summer cottages? But the most interesting is the question of floor – is the floor made of books? If so, then we are walking on books, we tread and trample them ...... yes, but the covers can be composed in a beautiful carpet ...... If no, then what is the floor made of?
And one matter more, unclear and puzzling. If one cottage, one house, is one letter, then would a Liberlish city be a page of text?

Libloo + libloo + libloo + ...... + libloo = LIBURBO

Has this equation any sense?