At the book fair

Come January and there are so many reasons to feel happy about. 

The start of a new year, always ushers a longing for great things to start, even if they don’t happen, lots to expect, a never ending list of all that you wish to read, and naturally, the book fair. 

Books, wherever or whatever way they are arranged… in a row on shelves or as little heaps, make me feel like I am on weeds. And at the book fair, seeing hundreds of shops was like moving around a carnival.

There are so many to choose from, and I am at a loss on what to take along. The mind does so many calculations to fit the list in the budget. The classics, or the spirituals, the children books or the renowned contemporary ones, fiction or non-fiction, lovely prose or rhythmic poetry…

My online library has so many of these too. Do I really have to own all these? It is about reading them not owning them that matters, I tell myself. But some books are to be chewed slowly. The spiritual ones especially, they need to be on my shelf. 

And after much of a debate, when I do choose a few books and check their cost, I understand they are too precious to be owned. But nevertheless, I cradle them in my arms, and keep moving this way and that until I find something that wouldn't break the shoe string, and then keep the precious pearl back in its place. It is too painful, though a little heartening that I could hold them to my heart, after all.

I did choose a few books, and made my way home, telling myself I can always get a second hand or used book for an affordable price. 

I wish I have a big library, with rows and rows of all the books I loved reading, those that were a pleasure to my nerves, and those that made tears trickle down my eyes, those that made me mad with anger… 

Better or worse, whatever I am, thanks to these wonderful beings that make me travel all over the world; meet all the people around, the good, bad and the in-between.