previously known books

i once heard someone romancing trains...reflecting on all those who had seen the train as it passed through earlier stops on it's way-i always believed i had seen it in a Hallmark Movie, but can't track it down. it stuck with me for a long time and i always looked at trains a bit differently after that. always wondered whose life had been touched by those rusty cars as they rattled along the tracks or merely who else had noticed them as i just had.


now my eye has turned to old books in much the same fashion. i am loving old, torn up hardbacks...so well loved. some written in, used as workbooks, given as gifts. a little bit of everyone between their pages. i have come across some with newspaper clippings tucked inside, prayers written in the back, and photos taped to the covers. little bits of people, really, here and there. people i haven't met but feel as if i might be meeting them as i explore their life through the books they read and obviously cherished.

some fine looking books are not so personal, just intriquing...maybe it's the color of the pages or the texture of the edges. perhaps its the soft scent or substantial weight of the volume. the colors of the covers along with any printing on the covers and spine all add up to draw me into their leaves.

though i seldom actually read these texts...i just love to look at them, hold them...maybe tie them with satin ribbons, in a neat stack, largest on the bottom, smallest and most fragile on the top. even under a glass cloche is an interesting destination for a book...as if it were a fresh tart or growing plant needing special attention.

i think i get a feeling of substance from these fine old specimens...almost a feeling of sacredness. a chance to share a bit of history...

pictured here is my start at a collection. originally i started gathering these to use in projects and store displays. but those ideas usually involve destroying the integrity of the book. i just can't make myself do it. these seem so perfect just like they are. i hate to even ruffle their pages for fear of them shattering.

but when you do ruffle those pages and something so intimate as a holy card from a funeral appears or a hand written recipe flutters to the ground, you know you are shaking hands with someone you haven't met, and never may, but certainly know on some level by the not-so-random occurence of a shared book.