Yes, I'm sinking under the weight of the books and paper around here. My foray into collage in the winter didn't help; now I have lovely paper scraps by the bagful as well as all my writing (finished and un-) and enough reading to get me through a couple dozen years of convalescence. I did try clearing some today, with these very partial results.
Books that I part
with reluctantly:
Sherry Turkle, The
Second Self
Walden
The Night Before
Christmas with pop-up
santas, shutters that open and shades that raise, and sugarplums literally
dancing (and eyes twinkling), by means of a sliding piece
Books I can’t let
go of:
my symbolic logic
The Ascent of
Man
Misty of
Chincoteague
Winnie Ille Pu
The Scholar
Adventurers
Hildegard’s
Healing Plants
The Perfect Egg,
and Other Stories (Aldo
Buzzi)
Rilke’s Book of
Hours
Summer in
Salandar (H.E. Bates)
Books I want to
read again at once:
The Principles
of Uncertainty
Selma (the philosophical sheep)
The High Road (Edna O’Brien)
image: Yehuda Edri collection
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