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![]() ![]() ![]() I cannot fathom the idea of reading a magazine or book without feeling the pages and the weight in my hands. I am certain many of my friends on social media have reading devices, but I do not own one. It is hard to grasp that books might be on the way to becoming a thing of the past. I have always loved to spend time and money in a bookstore. Reading has been a major force in my life, even before I could read. I suppose I actually am a bit bookish, with my hundreds of books stacked around the house. I had always held that “bookish” meant a cardigan wearing, dotty eccentric person living in a small space with their books and seven cats named: Twain, Dickens, Proust, Tolstoy, Poe, Fitzgerald, and Rum Tum Tigger. I recently overheard someone I barely know refer to me, along with old and bald, as “bookish”. No one that I ever knew was nicer to me.“ She was kind, cheerful and interested, and loved to make jokes and gossip. Sylvia had a lively, sharply sculptured face, brown eyes that were alive as a small animal’s and gay as a young girl’s, and wavy brown hair that was brushed back from her fine forehead. I borrowed books from the library of Shakespeare & Company, which was the bookstore of Sylvia Beach at 12 Rue de l’Odéon. “In those days there was no money to buy books. 1920, photographer unknown, public domain ![]()
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