"Books are humanity in print." (Barbara W. Tuchman)



couple of books, different subjects, same shelf
I picked you for your title
you picked me for my content

you can't read me - I'm written in Strange
my body language is always misspelled
but I like the way you turn my pages (your index brushing the tongue first)
you go through my first chapter/ don't get a word of me
you put me back on the shelf
for a while

I'm lucky!
you're an easy read
the preface promised a lot, inside - a lot of blah blah though
the action seems weak/ storyline's fading
you go back on the shelf
for a while

we give each other another go
nothing's changed: I'm still strange, you're still boring
your finger doesn't do much for me anymore
you're intrigued
I'm frustrated
we tear each other apart: there!
pages scattered all over the place

pity!
our last chapters will never be read now

(17.00 hours - the Library is about to close)