3/8/10
A Library Book
Books, shelves of books, an armada
of words and pages surround me, more books than I could ever own, and more than
I would ever try to have. And these are not dense tomes of facts and figures,
but fables. Stories of light and lively adventures, tawdry and bawdry tales
that are not numbered among the few titans that loom large for all eternity.
These are small texts, created in joy, loved by many for a brief moment, and
then pushed back by newer novels. Now they are occasionally unearthed by
literary wanderlusts who stray upon them by chance and find themselves
enchanted by some obscure trait or characteristic that never won awards, but
can still touch hearts.
They are read, they are enjoyed, and then they are returned. A long sleep, stirred
by the occasional guest who is treated with the same care and friendship as the
first reader. No grudges are held for long waitings, only a welcoming warmth
and a tale told with fresh energy.
