Using books

I have great respect for books, whether they are in digital or paper format. They are a tool, for me, essential when I wish to escape from the everyday and take refuge in a parallel universe or, more simply, when I want to learn something new.

I have always considered books living objects that change their function over time. The exact text can have different influences depending on the condition of the moment in which we are leafing through it.

I live books. Intensely.

I underline them in pencil, write notes in the margins and fill in the blank pages with my insights and considerations. Any physical book I have at home contains all these things within it. Often there are newspaper clippings, scattered notes, and sometimes the receipt from the bookstore where I bought it.

Each book tells a story to parallel the one on its pages. Mine.

Some will turn up their noses, but there are also dog-eared. Often.

Over the years, I have become convinced that things are meant to be used—no sense in owning an item if you cannot extract every last drop of experience and knowledge.

While I respect the books I write on, I do my dog ears and take notes. I always do it in pencil. I do it in pencil not so much because I find it more respectful than biro pen but because I find the stroke of any pen too invasive compared to the characters and ink of the book. The same goes for highlighters.

I have no idea who will come into possession of my books once I no longer walk this earth, but I like the idea that someone might have them in their hands and read a little bit of me among those scattered notes.