As they are worn beautifully.
Stories repeated often of God, King, Country, War, Peace and eventually the words fall here and there leaving emotions to sort through. The stories rarely change, maybe a paragraph here and there, maybe a newer word, or a newer person in power but the emotions are similar if not the same. Stories of love, hate, fear, hope, anger, doubt, joy… Am I connected to a story because I can relate to it, or hunger for something it shows me between the lines buried with descriptions that say something but make me think or feel something altogether different?
Why do we devour page after page, why does a child listen to a few books over and over and others go unread?
I love the way a book that has been read many times over feels in my hands, how the pages open without effort as if calling me to come inside.
Like a friend old and true, knowing what stories to keep, what words to let go, what memories to recall to highlight a moment. Like these two old books that have traveled together for over two hundred years.
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