in my on-going searches I find notes, love letters, cards left behind as bookmarks. Or simply forgotten in books that the owner no longer valued Or the owner died, or divorced, moved away to another city; whatever. It's sad to see professions of love discarded in this way. Books offered with high regard to people who will abandon them in the future. Inscriptions, some by the authors of the books themselves, of heartfelt devotion now tossed aside; purged, removed.
this is a part of booking that affects me the most. I sometimes end my day just looking at my sleeping wife, wondering if there will come a time all my notes in all the books I have given her will be likewise recycled without even a glance over her shoulder.
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