Enormous love/lust

It should come as no shock that I have a great love affair with books. My husband being more of a technical person simply can’t understand this. He sees no reason in continuing the relationship with a book once you have read it. Unless of course it was something like the latest copy of 2600 (paid for with cash only of course or better yet read in the local book store and then left like a desperate lover)! For this reason I will attempt to explain this affair.
When I pick up a book I hold a world of possibility in my two small hands. There are no limits and there is no hurry. Like the attentive lover the pages will always be there for me. Offering me something that, for the moment, no other can. As we learn each other a bond is formed. I relate books to every event in my life. A book is a memory….where was I when I read it, what was going on in my life at the time. What memories, feelings, and thoughts did it stir? Was the affair passion and over quickly or was it a long steady love that only grew stronger over time? A book holds a certain magic that is given exclusively to its reader.

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