I am so grateful for books. Not just that I am grateful for the opportunity to buy books. The snapping open of a new book spine like a pianist cracking their knuckles readying for a masterpiece. The unmistakable smell of each page of a new heavy sterile text book.
Or my gizzards jumping for joy a tiny bit inside (to save from embarrassment of openly jumping for joy and scaring other shoppers) when I find a rugged, dusty, second hand gem of a book that has a life of it’s own and a story to tell.
It’s the potential I’m grateful for. The potential to know more than I did yesterday, to learn more about things that other people may not know about or want to know about. It’s that realisation that I’m not just learning for the sake of it, I do still have some curiosity after all. Just like when I was little. I haven’t lost it all.
I am grateful for books, for the opportunity to buy books, for never-ending learning and for the curiosity they nurture.