This is a book. It is a book I found in a box. I found the box in the attic. The box was in the attic, under the eaves. The attic was hot and still. The air was stale with dust. The dust was from old pictures and books. The dust in the air was made up of the book I found. I breathed the book before I saw it; tasted the book before I read it.
--Paul Harding Tinkers
(Source: maloriebrooke)
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maloriebrooke posted this
My name is Malorie. I like daydreaming, science, fandom, and the smell of used book stores--honey bees, bicycles, earl grey, and alphabetizing. I don’t like people that say imagination is a waste of time, lousy fountain pen ink, or artificial plant life--spiders, museums, clutter, or the elimination of the oxford comma. Welcome to my world.
