Friday, July 18, 2008

While I am loathe to admit it, I feel I must. I am writing from a mobile phone.also, since it is technically after midnight I missed the deadline. Since I've blown it already I might as well meander a bit into where my mind had been, if you hadn't guessed already. Deep deep in the depths of that little book I told you about yesterday. I love it. It is one of those treasured pieces that feels like it was written just for me.maybe it's this particular copy, but it has amazing vibes. I deperately want to seek out a copy for myself but who knows what I will end up with. What if its more than the writing (simple) or binding (sewn, not glued) but something altogether unique to this one book? I wonder about the person or people who owned it and those who ckecked it out before me. What were they like? Did they love it? I know someone made pencil marks, but I don't know how long ago or why. I suppose I don't need to know. I just hope that somewhere in those pages my love has gotten stuck and pops out to the next reader.


anobscureobject said...

So im happy to say your last two posts magically coerced me into writing my own post about books. ; )

thelivingdoll said...

do you remember when you nuzzled the book? i do.