I feel at home in a bookstore.
Well, I guess it’s more the feeling of returning to a childhood home after years away. Things will have changed some but the smell is still the same and you still gravitate to the same sections as before.
Maybe its the way that books give off a richness that I’ve never been able to explain. All those words packed tightly onto pages, screaming to push out into the open and fly into the readers eyes. That’s how I think of books, as if they were alive, unchanging beings. Poetry would be a frail woman full of unspeakable knowledge, so wise she has to feed you in fragments. History books would be a bellicose Englishman with a large pipe held firmly in his right hand. Biographies take the form of children, longingly reaching to connect to someone much older and wiser.
To me, books are a connection to a rich history and a vein into the hearts and minds that will lead us into the future.
One day I’ll add to that future.
One day…..
One Page Behind 