from 2012--
I've moved books, thrown away books, gave away books, stacked books, read books from my childhood that are falling apart, ran my hands over a first edition of Barrett Browning from a friend who loves books more than me. I have laughed, wept, and remembered my life, all through books, the days I bought them, the days I read them, my own marginalia (I love to write in books) the marginalia of people dead over a century ago or more. Old postcards in books. Old stamps. Drawings. I am dizzy by the feelings that these books conjured up. And I count myself fortunate to have read so many wonderful words--oh the places I have been!
