These are not books, lumps of lifeless paper, but minds alive on the shelves. From each of them goes out its own voice… and just as the touch of a button on our set will fill the room with music, so by taking down one of these volumes and opening it, one can call into range the voice of a man far distant in time and space, and hear him speaking to us, mind to mind, heart to heart. ~Gilbert Highet
As if our monthly pilgrimage to the quaint little bookstore on Brigade Road was not enough, a few weeks ago, I discovered a local lending library. One of the posher ones, if I might add. I lusted and waited. I gave myself time. To see if the urge would pass. If I could refrain from entering the library. (Well, with more than half a dozen unread books already waiting on my shelves, I did not NEED any more!) Yet, Words, they are quite seductive, you know?
Pages and Pages of black print on white(or yellow).
Dancing droplets of joy.
A world within another.
And so I sinned. Yet again. I was almost delirious as I held onto the books, touched and felt the pages all over(how creepy!), re-read lines to myself.. and wondered..’If only I had a membership!’Point is, I could afford to take membership and read as much as I want. But my typical middle-class upbringing you see, I had to ‘deserve’it. I went around, as much in love as a hapless teenager. I was smiling and giggling to myself. (Don’t we all?) Finally I could bring home my babies. The books I mean.
I came back home grinning in the dark. The sun had set and people went about their way, minding more practical matters. If they noticed my extra large grin, I am glad that they didn’t bring it up. I would have been mortified. Even the latest meditation craze that I am into does not make me this high.
So… Books! That should be my mantra instead!
I am still grinning. So please, walk out as gracefully as you can and let me read, will you?