Today is set aside for
and is known as
I’ve shown this photo before, but it really sums up my one true love.
I want to live in a bookstore, in a library, but being surrounded by books also makes me feel partly empty. I can’t read them. I need to scan them electronically or go to EBooks or braille.
I am happy to do this. I have an entire electronic device still full of books someone once found for me. I couldn’t likely get through all of those in one hundred years, but something also stops me from making even a dent.
So much, so many worlds and characters and ideas, so many words to be found.
Nothing can compare to holding a book, even one I can’t see to read, in my hands.
The musty smell of the pages is divine.
I rub my fingers over the bumps on the pages on my Harry Potter book collection. I could read them over and over. It’s a love that is pure and will never end. One thing I can count on.
I’m not reading a particular book at this moment. I can’t seem to settle on one a lot of the time, even knowing how many there are out there. I often still feel removed from all the books I love, like I can’t just pick them up, read any book I want, at any moment. It’s a painfully wonderful feeling, that I have the power to read and yet I lack the ability to in many cases. It’s one of those bittersweet love affairs.
I have written about and reviewed several books on this blog in the past two years.
There was the two-parter review of Go Set A Watchman I wrote last summer:
There were a few posts I devoted to my love of Harry Potter:
Those last three things are things books are to me.
I can easily see the similarity between the first time experiencing the thrill of new love with someone and the first time to read a book that will become a favourite. There is a rush and a feeling you can never get back, no matter how you will always love or can ever hope to again. It will remain a wistful memory and something that will forever be both sad and nostalgic and that’s just how it is.