A quaint smell stretches out its arms from within the pages, the smell of all those hands that had once held the book with so much love.
'arf arf' barks a dog-ear 'here's an enchanting page', and another tugs at you 'this is where my reader drifted into a catnap'.
Nifty creases running all along the yellow pages hint at all the hidden paths in the book.
A pencilled star winks at you from the corner of a page; somebody has been willing to share with you a moment of epiphany.
Tea colored wishy-washy clouds and greasy smudges; clearly words were not the only ones devoured.
And somewhere a lonely soul once sat clutching at this book so hard as though it could steer a way through life, so hard that the book was moved and loosened its binds
...one hasn't even started reading the book.
