Books need to be devoured

And not to be kept as decoration

I used to have a childhood fantasy of having a huge library- with books from top to bottom. I imagined a couch in one corner, a table lamp on the side and myself- sipping coffee and reading.

Childhood fetish, I know.

It has not changed much, now. I have more books to read now, and less time. Before, I had all the time in the world but no books.

I always read a book with a pencil. I underlined what I liked. I was not the one who would leave the book ‘virgin’. It was read by a human being, and the book lived through the tears, the sweat, and ketchup stains. I realized that I could never be that person who wouldn’t leave dog ears because I would fold pages down to go back to. To me, a book was never meant to look perfect on a bookshelf. And I realized it today- the happiness on my face when my book got picked up. I realized it would be in another man’s hands, through day and night.

That book was created to be shared and be ruined.

This post is a part of challenge that I took. I will be writing 100 words everyday for 100 days. Day fifty is here. Thank you for reading.