To all the books I’ll never read, I hope you’ll accept this letter of apology.
It’s not that I don’t think you’re beautiful. I do think you’re beautiful. The way your covers shine and glint in the light is gorgeous. The way your title sprawls across your spine is awe-inspiring.
It’s not that I think you’re gross. You’re not gross. Your pages splay out like a newly opened lily. They waft the fragrant perfume of ink and paper, of dust and memories and creativity. You permeate the room with hope and power and frenzy and love. I love that smell more than you’ll ever know.Read more