Fondness for books

The post is inspired by and written for the January 2024's IndieWeb Carnival hosted by It's a bit overdue, so I didn't bother to submit it, but I still wanted to share it.

Paper books has always played an important role throughout my life. One of my brightest childhood memories is me getting into my grandparents' house attic and playing with their old books. My grandmother was a schoolteacher and had five sons so they had quite a library of books at home.

I say playing because being seven years old at that time I could barely understand what was written in most of those books. Big part of them were school books on mathematics, physics, chemistry, etc. I did read the prose, but that were those books I was fascinated the most. There was even a book on botany published around 1905 or so. The attic was a real treasure cave.

Even though I didn't fully understand most of the things in those books, I still sharply remember those feelings I had "reading" them. An overwhelming curiosity and eagerness to figure things out. The state of mind I wish we all could preserve in ourselves as adults.

That experience fostered love for books that still lasts in me. And it is not a simple love of reading. No, it is something more and deep I have trouble to explain. Every single time I get a book in my hands it fills me with so much joy and childish excitement. It's magical. In such a little object there may be endless worlds you can dive into and wonder, or knowledge and wisdom gained by generations, and all that in right your hands.

Reply to this post by email