Ah, paper books, how do I love thee?
Let me count your well thumbed pages…
to the depth and breadth and height of all the bookcases in my home.
- Paper book, I can dog-ear your pages to mark where I’ve read up to. It’s like wrinkles, creases of experience (much like the smile lines around my eyes). You’ve lived.
- You won’t run out of sight. I don’t have to wait until you power up – I can read you on demand.
- Paper book, I can accidentally drop you without fear that you’ll shatter into a million pieces. You may not be as fit as before, but your essence will still remain.
- I can read you while I’m eating and not worry when teriyaki sauce drops on you. I’ll just wipe the sauce off and sit you outside in the sun and you’ll be ok. Sure your pages may stick together, but I just need to remember to shake and separate your pages before I take you out to dry.
- Paper book, you smell divine. I love the smell of a well-read book…although dried teriyaki sauce on paper does sometimes render you not as enjoyable if held too close (I’ll just put some eucalyptus oil on a cloth and wipe the area emitting the most odour and then sit you outside to dry).
- Paper book, you sound divine. When I turn your pages, they rustle and seem to talk to me – you’ve got passion!
- And what if I want to reread an amazing line or paragraph like when Mr Darcy proposes for the first time to Lizzy in Pride and Prejudice and she (spoiler alert) rejects him?! If there’s a teriyaki sauce stain on that exact page I’ll know exactly where to go – it’s like you’ve got a birth mark!