On checking out “The Book Thief” from the library

One book.

It’s better than the stacks I usually carry out of the library, making me hunchback…Stacks hunchback my brain too. I end up returning most unread, or half-read, or all read far too quickly and none of them enjoyed.
But when it is just one, I can breathe. The book breathes, too, and if I open the pages it rustles secretly, shivering in excitement, the words reaching up for me…

I slam the cover shut and the green trees are waving jovially along the sidewalks and I am walking towards the park
with one book.


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