14. (And herein lies the truth.)

You wanna know how much of a geek I am?

I love the smell of books. Old books, new books, dirty books, moldy books, books, books, books. I work in a library. I love just walking around and smelling the musty, slightly-rotten smell that many of the books give off.

It's glorious.

I want to buy a bunch of old books from the used books joint on Main just to leave them sitting in my room, stinking the place up. The book smell has character! If scent is the strongest scent tied to emotion, then I must really like books. Or something. I dunno. I'm rambling now, if you hadn't noticed.

In all seriousness, though, I'd much rather have an old book than a new book. It just feels better to hold an older, more fragile book in your hands. Hardbacks especially--they feel solid, they feel alive.

You hold an old book in your hands and you just know that sometime, somewhere, someone was reading that same book and likely taking a similar experience out of it. It's a sense of anonymous camaraderie. Untouching brotherhood. A connection with a person you never have nor never will come into contact with.

Character! Books have a character that nothing else will ever be able to grasp. I rue the day that books become obsolete and everyone turns to the internet or to television completely. We're not yet there, but we're close.

As for me, I'll never give up on books. Ever.

The book I'm reading now, The Pendragon by Catherine Christian, smells slightly of mold and, since a certain mishap with my friend Alan, Southern Comfort. It's got more character than most people I know.