scribblechic

Despite the sinfully indulgent gratification of receiving a book instantly, delivered as if by magic through the air conveniently into a lightweight gift of modern technology – I still linger lovingly over the heavier, tangible shape of a book. Pages of another’s dreams collected between the shield of book covers; to be held and protected, cherished and shared. This morning as I curled beneath a blanket of my mother’s making, beside a warm cup of coffee, and in the company of a new story, I gave thanks for the dreamers and writers who fill my days with magic. The weight of paper and the spell of a new story welcoming the day with possibility and prose.

Tagged: Books, Musings