I love the fragrance of new books.
That all exciting feeling of turning fresh and crisp pages.
It makes me all gleeful
No gadget can beat that.
But you know what I love even more?
The sight of old pages,
Tattered books.
Covers that come off loose,
Faded words,
The smell of old books.
It gives an impression of eternal wisdom.
Of the powerful secrets it holds.
It brings a  feeling  of being part of another soul,
It emits an aura that says it has shared this story with more person than one.
Like its a society and I’m one of the key-members-holding the torch.
It is familiar yet different.
Someone else may have touched it,
But I’m the only one who feels it the way I do.
No two people ever read the same book.
This one is the culmination of all those experiences that this book has given others.
And now I’m a part of it too.

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