I write about it because today when I put it down...half the book fell out. It has been opened and worn so many times that the binding has split and the pages no longer are glued in. It is filled with highlighting, pencil marks, pages that have been folded as a book mark....some of the pages are so old that I can practically see through them.
A worn out book. I can't help but imagine it like my favorite shirt that has holes, various fade spots and areas where bleach accidentally was spilled on it. A collection of experiences from when I've worn it.
Much like my shirt, this book has a collection of spaces and times when I have opened it up. It is worn. It is used.
I picked up the pages that fell out, gently tucked them into the book and placed it back on my shelf.
The end.