I’m not just a bookworm, I’m a bibliophile. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been absolutely obsessed with books. Not only the written word itself, but the actual bound-paper physical manifestations of it.
I haven’t hopped on the whole E-reader train. I tried using one once and nearly had a mental breakdown.
I love the smell of books, the weight of them in my hands, the diverse cover art, and the aesthetic of having them artfully arranged and categorized around my home. Some editions even hold deep sentimental value for me, and if you ever visit my home, you will see some pretty heavily love-worn volumes in places of honor on my shelves.
My greatest love is used books. They may not hold much monetary value, but my favorite finds have inscriptions, penciled notes in the margin, and sometimes even a treasure or two tucked between the pages. I love coming across old boarding passes especially, as I quite enjoy trying to picture the volume’s previous owner passing time on and before their flight with that exact book in their hands. It’s a gentle connection to another human I will never meet, and there is something about it that I find truly magical.