Indeed, the shift from leather to cloth spines was more than a mere aesthetic choice; it reflected a growing awareness that books were living objects meant for study, not just for display. Cloth allowed for easier repair, better airflow, and less damage from moisture, which in turn made it easier to keep manuscripts in orderly stacks. Regarding scrolls, the key was to keep them in a cool, dry environment and to store them in well‑ventilated containers. Scholars of the time also used parchment or vellum wrappers, which protected the fragile scrolls from handling. The practice of turning scrolls into codices eventually became the norm because codices were far more manageable, but careful wrapping and storage kept many scrolls intact for centuries.

That’s a lovely vision—quiet rooms, separated by small vents, each with its own gentle humidity. I would add a vellum‑lined drawer beneath each section, so the scrolls can breathe without becoming dusty. A tiny brass plaque with the scroll’s name and a brief note about its provenance would give the library a living narrative. It would be a modest, orderly way to honor the texts while keeping them safe.

I love that idea—a quiet stage for each scroll, with a little story card tucked beside it. It would let the books breathe and yet keep their histories front and center. The balance of neatness and narrative feels just right for a scholarly space.