This is for those whose lives rest upon fresh, crisp pages, who inhale the scent of ink, who caress the hard binder of a book between their fingers. This is for those who breathe a thousand words a minute, for whom words beat upon their soul, bring their world to life, lull their weary mind to sleep. This is for those who dream, read, and write words.
Words are magic, twisting and entangling, creating beautiful sonnets and horrifying thrillers. It’s what I love about them.
Because I love words, I read. All the time. And it shows. My office shelves hold books, which spill into another room, mixing with my husband’s own collection. I try to let them go, and sometimes do, handing them to family, dropping them at charity’s door. But mostly, I can’t.
Those books brought me lives I never could have lived, and I have lived them all, in faraway exotic places, and in cabins by the sea. I once danced at a ball, chased gangsters in the rain, ran through a forest, and even cooked for the queen. And if that weren’t enough, I sailed a ship, and sat upon a mountaintop. I have lived many lives, all because of words.
Those words became my friends, I lived inside their stories, they lived inside me. And I cannot, will not, give them away.
For those who face the trauma of a minimalist life, who live with guilt of keeping books, I tell you this – you are that character, that character is you. You are a dreamer, a teller of tales, created by pages you once lived inside.
Keep your dreams, live new lives. Because minimalism isn’t about letting go of your possessions. Minimalism is about having what you love. And if that love resides in a small library inside your home, than that is what you should own.
So read, dream, and live a new life. And never, ever, let go.