On Books

I have a weakness. It’s books. Real books, made from ink and paper.

I started this journey with a 1,000 page tomb, an old mass market copy of Atlas Shrugged. It took me awhile to read.

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When it was finished, I carried it around awhile longer for Tyndall. He wanted to read it. He finished Uhuru, so we swapped. I can’t say I would recommend that book, but finished it all the same. As I read, I ripped pages off and threw them away. Paper’s heavy, you know.

After that, I didn’t carry a book for awhile. I read ebooks on my phone. Without a book, my front bag had space. I didn’t have to fight with the zipper to close it. I told myself I would stick to ebooks and audio books from the Anchorage Library. It was nice to have extra space in my bag.

The trouble is, not all books are ebooks and not all books are audio books. Neither are made with paper and ink either, but I did ok for awhile.

Then we went to Missoula and I visited the Book Exchange. It’s one of the better used book stores I had ever been to. I came out with one book. No big deal. It would fit on in my bag.

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Later on, Tyndall says he needs a new book. We return to the Book Exchange. I come out with another book. But it’s a good book, and I tell myself I will find space.

I can do without many things, but it turns out a book isn’t one of them.

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