So I watched a good movie tonight. Well, at least I thought it was good. It made me think. Those movies are the best types of movies. The movie: Fahrenheit 451. Gosh, Ray Bradbury had some weird but kinda profound thoughts. I didn't like the bookburning scenes though. The thought of all those wonderful books going up in flame makes my heart hurt.
I really love books. I don't even have to read them (though I love doing that too). There's something about a book and the way it feels in my hands when I open it. When I touch a page to gently lift and turn it. And when I finish my reading and close the book, I can't help but pause for a moment to simply appreciate the book for itself. I could enter a bookstore and spend hours just looking and touching and opening and reading, then leave the store without spending a dime. My heart would be content.
Last semester I would go to the library, take the stairs to the fifth floor, pick up a book, and read. And if I didn't feel like reading I would wander up and down the aisles, my eyes skimming titles both familiar and unfamiliar. Ah, there's an old friend, I'd think. And I'd take it off the shelf and brush my fingers across the cover and flip through the pages and remember. On another shelf, an old leather binding would catch my eye; I'd hold the ancient tome for a moment in awe and reverence for the yellowed pages and the musty aroma. Seconds, minutes, even hours later, I'd look at my watch and realize that I had only five minutes to get to class. With a sigh, I'd trudge down the stairs, leaving my old and new friends behind, but promising myself and the books that I would be back soon.
Every book I've read is a friend to me. I suppose that's why I didn't like the books burning in the movie. I felt like I was losing my best friends.
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