a book’s story.

today, i was thinking about how much i love getting books from used book stores.  i love that they have a past.  that someone else somewhere has flipped through their pages and read their words.  don’t get me wrong, i love a fresh book…oh, the smell of a brand new, never before opened book.  ahhhhhh.  but i digress…and i also love the smell of old books 🙂  anyway, all i could think about while i was thinking about how these books have a story of their own was how rude it is of me to keep them all for myself.  (i have this pack rat problem where i tend to keep everything…i mean everything.  i especially want to keep books that i’ve loved, but how selfish.)  that book needs to make it somewhere else and give someone else its knowledge.  and who am i to end a book’s journey?  who knows where i’m keeping it from…it could have the potential to be a world traveler!  i am completely torn.  i love books.  i want to keep them all, but i also want to set them free.  are these the ramblings of a crazy person?  perhaps.  i don’t care, though.  i love my books 🙂


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