A Random Post (eventually I'll get around to a quick update about the past month or so):
I have begun to notice that the more I like a book, the more I touch it. As I wander through book stores, I touch the books laid out flat (and I tend to touch the ones that look, upon first "judge a book by its cover" glance, intriguing). 9 times out of 10 if you check my purse, there's a book in there. Julia Child is my bag's most recent tenant - I'm reading (devouring! har har) My Life in France. And when it's not in my purse, more often than not I find myself moving it room to room with me (in case I want to read in the kitchen?). When I come to the living room or get into bed, I set it next to me even if I'm on the computer or knitting and have no way of holding it open to read while my hands are so occupied. If I've left it sitting on a table, I'll absently run my fingers across it when I pass. It is a very nice feeling book - 352 pages so it's substantial but not burdensome; a good solid yet soft paperback with enough give to the pages and cover to be satisfyingly inviting but not floppy; and with just the right matte texture to the cover (a little tooth but essentially smooth so your fingers glide over it, not slip or squeak). This is why, convenient and super-cool as they are, I will never fully convert to digital books. I'll give up my physical books when you pry them from my cold, dead hands.
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