I am a book worshipper, Grecian rather than Roman.

I do not set books on high shelves and handle them with venerating care, keeping them wrapped pompously in their clumsy dust jackets, turning every page with sterile reverence, being careful never to wrinkle, bend, or crease them.

I insert myself into them – manhandle them, stain them with coffee, violate them with dog-ears, highlighters, and penciled notes in virgin margins. Only through this aphrodisiacal form of reveling praise will true Enlightenment be reached.


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