@Lustig Andrei,
Yeh, when I was a kid I imagined a clubhouse for us under the big pine tree. We were already The Secret Pine Club, and put on yearly Carnivals in our yard, the somewhat biggest. (We rented, the rest lived there near forever.) Well, it was mostly to be mine, mine, mine, at least in my mind. You went down a ladder to a room walled and floored with mattresses and pillows, with plenty of books and a refrigerator full of Hershey bars and cokes. (I was a simple girl). Those mattresses would never have had tags. How I got them down the hole was a matter that didn't present itself to my ten year old mind, and I have no memory of how I thought about the ceiling. Probably more mattresses.
On books, there is some announcement in some books about it being illegal to sell a book with no cover. I guess there are no-cover book selling thugs.
Me, I have two books that I hold together with ribbon since the covers tore, and I'd buy either of them if I saw them at a garage sale:
Claudio Magris'
Danube, held with some silvered wrapping ribbon and
Agustin Yanez's
The Edge of the Storm, held with regular twine.
Go ahead, sue me in advance.
I also got a book as a gift, one of those from publishers never meant to be distributed as it was sort of early re the book making sense as to organization. Was by a food writer I like a lot. So, in my cookbook cupboard (approx 15" wide and 5' high) I have this contraband object. Where the friend got it, I've no idea. Ask no questions.