Working areas are interesting places, they can tell you so much about a person. I live in a small house and with no room to spare (yet) I’ve claimed a corner in my living room, my corner.
My corner is warded by a fierce looking Spawn wielding a 2-handed runic sword. He keeps an eternal vigil, stoically standing over his tall tower of books. He knows the importance of his task, for such books contain the core of my inspiration.
To my wife’s dismay the wall of words keeps growing around me, the stories expanding endlessly. I have well over a hundred books next to, on, in and underneath my desk; and many more all over the house in bookshelves. I like the smell of them and to feel the texture of their pages with my fingertips. Old, heavy, leather bound books are the best; but of those I only have a few. E-books will never give me the full experience. It would be like to make love to a gorgeous woman who has no passion. It may be nice for the ego but I rather be with a person that stimulates me in more than one way, someone with fire in the belly and the depth of the sea in her eyes.
I don’t know for sure when this fascination for books began. But I remember fondly when I was just a child, we used to go to visit my grandad over the weekends. He had an impressive library, tall bookshelves covering the walls from floor to ceiling. He would let me go loose and explore this magical room to my heart content, and some times he would read countless stories to me, his eyes shining.
Now over 30 years later I’ve my own collection of books of all sorts. I don’t have a big study I’ve got just a corner, but it is my corner. And when I see the books towering over my desk I feel like that little kid once more, my eyes shining.
P.S. Don’t forget we’re now on Facebook!