I've done a blog about books and how they are a reflection of the person who owns them. It was fun and I'm not going to repeat it ....... sort of.
Yesterday in my efforts to consolidate my "shit" I went to my storage unit and pulled out the bookcase and box of books. When I left Bill I took some, but not all, of the books I had accumulated. As I rearranged the furniture to accomodate the bookcase I remember feeling one of the mental "knots" in my head relaxing. Finally another comfort item in my day to day space.
I miss some of the books I left behind. It's like losing an old friend, but at the time I remember thinking that I didn't have the space and I also thought Bill could benefit from them if he actually read them. The one that I miss most is Jonathan Livingston Seagull. By far not the most noteable in literary circles, but the story has so many layers of meaning.
As I sit here writing this I can glance over and see my collection of art and craft books, classics, philosophy, fiction, entertainment pure and simple, cookbooks and self help books. It feels good to let my eyes rest on them like the face of an old friend. My copy of Book of Five Rings is the heart and soul of this motley collection.
I'm going to try to not bring more "friends" home since I really am limited with space, but now that there is a home for them it will be hard.
What is your relationship with books? Is there one (or a handful) that are your "go to" books that you wouldn't part with?
