the birth of Book Days

Books breed.

Sometimes I agonize over the sheer number of books I have. (As I write this, I’m sure they’re copulating.)

I’m cursing, stretching and bending to move yet another book from the now leaning tower of paper pinned beneath more books and slippery magazines. Suddenly it happens: A Book Day is born.  That precise moment of pause blooms.  I’m transfixed by what I hold. Now I’m reading its back cover, reminiscing over that cool feel and texture and the season I welcomed this cherished work into my home. I’m finding a seat. The book opens and pages flutter …

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