Portable magic

The bookmark's made of the corner of an envelope, waste not want not. ;) L ast night I was in bed thinking about books. How I enjoy folding the edge of the page I'm on...just to have a reference where to pick up the story-line again, or that I sometimes read like a maniac just to figure out how the chapter ends. I love the fact that my fingertips have a slightly scent of 'ink' on them...I look at it as the story seeped inside me in a more physical way during the journey from cover to cover. I love it when century old books stand shoulder to shoulder like soldiers, saluting the reader in dusty bookshelves made of majestic oaks that lived for the better part of a millennium...it's something magical about that. Those images that pops up in your head of a character, or the subtle whisper of a poets voice... It will slowly wither away, like the ancient gods lost some of their powers when humans turned their back on them. It was weakness back then, it's conveni