in the days that i have the apartment to myself, i'm taking over the floors, couches, walkways and pretty much any free space imaginable with the spreading out and organizing of my books. though each time i unpack i promise never to mix different colors in each box, but without fail, i find that in the interest of efficiency while packing i always seem to break that promise. a random red spine will find its way into a box of whites or a family of blues will stow away in a box of oranges.
it's quite complicated. but at the same time there is no part of the process i don't enjoy. it's like visiting hour and christmas all wrapped into one as i am surprised by the contents of this box or that and always happy to see new or old friends alike. books i first read decades ago carry the weight of many reads and clamor about with their underlined words and dogeared pages and history they share with me.
i first read that one in the ballard house. my cousin sent it to me in a care package....i finished it in a bath with candles.
mmmm...middle school david edding's fantasy kick. the kids used to bug/tease me because i would laugh out loud during reading hour. they always wanted to know what was so funny.
my lovely masking-taped dr. seuss.
anais nin. i need to read her.
etc. etc.
i'll post pictures of the final project. i always seem to.
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