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@eugene

(14)

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Seller of books! I have been collecting Books for 40 years. Story: Yes, but particularly in that deafened space in the library, in the skulking shadows, in the lowly tread of the fleeting murmur, in the unwalked rows of books, in the books encased by sheets of leather jacketed centuries, their stitched skins scented with dust in the crotch of oblivion, and to turn a page is of no less than black holes of history and the hinge of the woefully creaking wintry heart of time. I’d like to think of myself being up there on the top shelves, hiding from the clamour and all the other kinds of noise outside in the world. My books are then a kind of shelter, I guess. Words and books – that is my comfort. And as my mine fingers creeps along the smallnails of the volumes of my library, seeking always across a gulf of years, even as surely as if, again, I were travelled in far countries … Through all the rents of Space — of Time, I voyage, as surely as thou art going to a foreign shore. After all, there’s a song for every story ever told, and a song for every hero and heroine: a song not quite the same as any other, and a universe of romance all its own.So, having seen them all — living, flying, soaring, singing, singing, oh, and sorrowing, I have dreamed these songs for you: songs of danger and desire, of wonder and of war . . . Myths, listen up! These are my grooviest songs so far. Yet, somewhere among all these tales on these shelves, there resides one with a profound intimacy – an anecdote whispered in hushed tones throughout the ages; an inheritance by heirs of a family’s secret legacy. This is a tale told among generations – a narrative of life, a cycle of death, of bravery and devotion. It is a story of us. Here, also, in these pages of vellum, I glimpse my own face as it sheepishly turns to greet me. In the lives of such as yours who have long since departed, in the brittleness of their heartbeats, I see the face of my own life, of mine, of mine, of mine. In the sky’s bright expanse that is crusted with the silence of the spaces between their words, I see the power of the text – to light the way as we walk it, to make the path when we sit to talk in the infinitude of the night. So here, these words I type on these eternally open pages, I do so in respect to the stories that came before and hope for the stories that will come after, because in the end it is not where you arrive that matters most, but the way in which you got there, the way in which the heart moves, infinite and eternal, goes on and on in time. #mywriting tory: , I enjoy reading , and selling books! If you have any questions??? Send me a message and I will get back to you. Thank you.