I write. I read. I have far too many books and I am moving in four days. In the garage of the new house are fifty boxes containing my dad's books, my grandparents books and possible their parents books. There are books everywhere; books I keep for the title (ex a scientific theory of bowls), old books, new books, a blue book (my sister gave me), classic books and modern fiction. There are kids books, non-fiction books, cookery books and those which I keep by my bed, just because I want them close while I sleep. Some books house so many memories I'd like to chuck them on a bonfire and watch them burn. Other books are unfamiliar, I don't know how they got on to my shelf. I've made so many boxes of books, I can't count. They bring me laughter, bewilderment, a nest to escape to, miracles for dreaming, a place to hide.
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