There are material things in my life that hold value to me. They are not necessities for sustaining life, but they help in times of self preservation. I love spending an afternoon in my local bookstore. I can walk through the door, and all the cares of the world seem to fall away. Buying new books is as addictive for me as cocaine is to an addict. I love the smell of the new pages tantalizing my sense of smell, causing a euphoria that only an avid reader can appreciate. It's exciting to be the first person to open a new book. It's like opening a new lease on life. You're opening the trap door to your mind, and letting in a new set of characters that might intrigue you for a lifetime.
I also have a love for book marks. I like all kinds. The paper laminated kind, the bejeweled kind, and the ones that clip over the top of the page. I'm also fasinated with the tiny reading lights that clip onto your book, so you can sneek a read late at night.
I admit that I like a book cover and title that catches my eye. The more colorful the photo and font on the front of the book the more interested I become. I also enjoy the stalking phase of finding one of my favorite author's books. I like reading books that are series, so I look and buy until I have every last title. The hunt of a desired book is a beautiful thing.
I also love to browse the clearance table. I have found some of the best buys, and new authors by taking the time to dig through each and every stack. It's like a archaeologist uncovering a new artifact when I unearth a book I've been coveting for so long.
The only thing bad about a trip to the bookstore is they never seem long enough. I think I should be allowed to pitch a tent and camp out for a few days, unfortunately most book stores have this pesky thing called business hours. Seesh.
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