My biggest childhood dream was to have a library of my own. It was the one dream that never waned even through the early years of adulthood. The bookcases themselves assumed more aesthetic shades as I grew older. From plain glass shelves, my dreams added intricate carvings and later, different coloured wood for different genres.
a woodpecker pecks
at a fallen branch
Sensibility arrived with age and I simply made do with whatever space was available. With every passing year, relics, bric-a-brac, souvenirs, gifts, medals and photographs found themselves crammed into cardboard boxes and found themselves in the attic.
saving wrappers for later
I teach the children the pleasure of inhaling the unsullied pages of a freshly bought treasure. And then to savour the subtle fragrance of a much read and loved one until I watch them disappear into worlds of their own.
cleaning forgotten verses
off the shelf