This thing about books
First of all: This thing about books. Over the years I have thrown them out, given them away, ‘forgotten’ them, left them, made art out of them… but they have not given up. New books keep finding their way to my home, multiply, and infiltrate among those I deliberately have chosen to keep after all. They show up in new places, small, big, with dog-eared corners, fat and in all colors. But, today I have actually surrendered. The books can stay. They are welcome. All of them. Everywhere. I like them. I will even stop sorting them, because books are perhaps just like most people, after all, and should be treated accordingly. (Or something. The last thing I probably wrote just because I wanted to be a bit deep, it may seem superficial to just write about your stuff like this.) Welcome to my home, full of books and things.
First of all: This thing about books. Over the years I have thrown them out, given them away, ‘forgotten’ them, left them, made art out of them… but they have not given up. New books keep finding their way to my home, multiply, and infiltrate among those I deliberately have chosen to keep after all. They show up in new places, small, big, with dog-eared corners, fat and in all colors. But, today I have actually surrendered. The books can stay. They are welcome. All of them. Everywhere. I like them. I will even stop sorting them, because books are perhaps just like most people, after all, and should be treated accordingly. (Or something. The last thing I probably wrote just because I wanted to be a bit deep, it may seem superficial to just write about your stuff like this.) Welcome to my home, full of books and things.
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