I am a lover of books. My ultimate dream is to have a house with a craft room and a library. I love everything about them. How they look, how they smell, how they feel in your hands, seeing one side grow and the other shrink as you get through a book. There’s nothing like the feel of a book. I especially love old books. For some reason I value them above new books. I think that it’s about the history. When you have a new book, you have the story, and that’s it. Old books are portals into the past. Maybe that’s a little dramatic, but old books become more than just their story. The physical book becomes an artifact, and I get to imagine the hands that it’s passed through over the years, and the places that it’s seen. I also love buying used books and finding little notes or ticket stubs that people were using as bookmarks. When donating books I oftentimes leave nice notes hoping that it will make the next reader smile. Where did this desire come from to blather on about books? I was in the library today, and walking through the stacks I saw some beautiful old books that I just had to take pictures of.