I have a sort of Christmas-morning sense of the library as a big box full of beautiful books.
Have you ever found your heart's desire and then lost it? I had seen myself, a portrait of myself as a reader. My childhood: days home sick from school reading Nancy Drew, forbidden books read secretively late at night. Teenage years reading -trying to read- books I'd heard were important, Naked Lunch, and The Fountainhead, Ulysses and Women in Love... It was as though I had dreamt the perfect lover, who vanished as I woke, leaving me pining and surly.
I look at him, look at the book, remember, this book, this moment, the first book I ever loved
My apartment is basically a couch, an armchair, and about four thousand books.
Each spine was an encapsulated memory, each book represented hours, days of pleasure, of immersion into words.
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