Open Up

posted on: May 9, 2008

Being me, I love books. The stack of beloveds on a shelf. The lonely, but unforgotten ones in a closet. The sterile-smelling ones that snap, crackle, pop when opened for the first time. The threadbare, musty ones from decrepit antique shops. Especially those. I like the worn books. The loved books. Those with greasy fingerprints, smudged words, melted chocolate, faded titles, broken spines, and water-waved pages mean too many things to too many someones. Someone trusted the black on the white. The sentences meant something. The words changed minds and the message changed souls. These abused covers are tried, tested, and true. No one would read if no one believed. Sandwiched between humble covers rests a treasure. A trusted gem. But who looks for nuggets of knowledge in a tattered exterior? Too many times I am seduced by a glitzy cover or an attractive title, only to find shoddy emptiness inside. These are the books that stay beautiful, glossy, and crisp. With nothing to offer invested souls, they remain closed. Unused. Ignored. Until another hopeful attemts to find truth in the handsome. Until another soul skims that last unfulfilling sentence. Another walks away empty. Walks right past the wilted stacks of brilliance. So go ahead, judge a book by its cover. Judge that professor by her hair, the salesman by his teeth, and the boy by his freckles. Because whle you're caught up in the beautiful but mundane, I'll revel in the stunning wisdom and goodness of the externally ordinary.

1 thought{s}:

  1. i like such as threadbare and antique book like that has some trace in book ...those good


She's a piratey soul, full a' vinegar and glitter.

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