HOW TO MAKE LOVE TO A BOOK | redclaydiary.com

HOW TO MAKE LOVE TO A BOOK

The grizzled browser stands frozen in statue-like meditation, peering at

the bookshelves before him.

He hesitates to reach out for a volume, lest he break the spell of anticipation.

Finally, after a long, suspended moment, his wrist rises before and

above eye level, the first two fingers of the right hand perch atop the

spine of one particular book. He pulls it gently forward, tilting the

volume outward, allowing it to float into his caressing palms.

The front cover gazes up at him, whispering its title, Fireflies. He

lowers his gaze, noting the author’s name, RabindranathTagore, and

the illustrator’s name, Boris Artzybasheff.

He dares to open the book to a random page and sees that a passage has

been marked in orange ink by a previous owner, some 34 years back.

The marked passage:

“From the solemn gloom of the temple

children run out to sit in the dust,

God watches them play

and forgets the priest.”

The browser is visibly startled at the power and simplicity of this

passage and steadies himself against the bookcase before summoning

the courage to turn the page.

What orange-highlighted thought could possibly top this one? he

wonders.

Taking a half-breath that feels almost like a gasp, the browser turns to

another section of the book.

The marked passage:

“My clouds, sorrowing in dark,

forget that they themselves

have hidden the sun.”

His brow wrinkles, the fine hairs on his neck stiffen. He is aware that

there are additional marked passages to absorb.

He closes the book and holds it close to his chest, fearing that, should

he lay it down for a moment, someone else, noting its beckoning glow,

might grab it. Since he has no way of knowing whether this is the last

remaining copy of Fireflies in the known universe, he hasn’t the heart

to leave it for later.

He turns with his trove and walks quietly to the front of the shop,

determined to purchase and adopt it, regardless of the price