My life.
40It scares me that books are becoming extinct.
Not just books in any form. I mean paper books.
A paper bundle you could physically pick up and instantly be attracted to. Where every thin piece of fibered paper was an experience.
Excitement and anticipation was what led you to turn the put your finger underneat, ready to jump to the next page. To read ahead and discover new words.
Sometimes the ink was splotched on the page. Sometimes someone had written a note upon the page. Underlined a word. What did that word mean to them? Who had read this book?
Sometimes a note could be found between a page…sometimes so simple. A message to pick up some milk used as a bookmark. A love note written between two middle-schoolers tucked into the pages of a reading assignment.
And here we are today in a world were books are replaced by an image of black words on a white screen. A picture represents a cover. A simulation of a page passes by on the LED.
But these are just images.
There is no meaning.
I miss the pages.
I miss the realness of the teardrops I’ve let soak through a few pages of a good book.
And for once, I don’t think I ever thought books were so beautiful.
30
