Portable magic

The bookmark's made of the corner of an envelope, waste not want not. ;)

Last 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 convenience now...with a slightly hint of laziness. Our history turned into turnable pages on a cold screen, our words turned into meaningless updates compacted down to I H8 U & C U L8R's. New idols are created by what they wear, how tan aka orange they are & how many followers they have. I do feel privileged to be a spectator of/dabbler in this non descriptive "era" though. Cause somehow the line is drawn between the keepers & the throwers. It makes it easy when spring cleaning's upon us I guess...& it all comes down to personal standards. 

The worth of a book is to be measured by what you can carry away from it.  ~James Bryce.


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