My house is filled with books most of which I have read, some I've forgotten I read and still there are others I have yet to read which call out to me from the shelves but have to wait their turn. I often hear how e-books are going to be the thing of the future, but I hope not. That would mean that generations to come would miss the tactile part of reading that rounds out the whole experience. I may be old fashioned, but I like the history of the books I have read. I've been on the 104 Bus in Manhattan with Peter Mayle, flown across the country with Pär Lagerkvist, taken a bath with Philip Pullman and slept with Charles Dickens. I know the peanut butter smudge on page 159 in Edith Wharton's Mythology happened when I was researching a project on constellations and that more often than not forgotten bookmarks are trails of my past, whether mislaid receipts, postcards, or photos.
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