sex with books

there is something almost insanely comforting about a good library. especially one where you know your way around. the huge stacks, the numerous rows of books, the silence that surrounds it all...a touch of magic is as close as i can get to describing it all in words. and when you touch the spine of those books, so patiently waiting for the day that some starving soul will pounce on them and thank the heavens for their existence. or even for the day when that very same soul comes across a long lost friend. a familiar face. a challenge. relationships that require total commitment. a book knows when it is scorned and it will return the favour. a book knows when it is loved. actually, i have no right to put it simply this way. because you, you too will know when the book rejects you. oh, they are not all good books. like you are not all good yous. but mostly we lie in the various shades of grey, a little bit of good, a little bit of bad, a little bit of a mystery. and when you find the one you want, when you finally touch the book that almost calls out for attention, then the magic begins all over again. a moment of trepidation as you open the book and read the first few sentences. will this work? will this not? a gentle dance of courtship. a bit of back and forth, a few flirtatious smiles, the frisson of sudden, unexpected brushes...and then imagine the afternoon. one sensuous pool of liquid time as the glorious afternoon drifts by. and you contemplate in your mind as you realize, damn right, high theory does turn me on!!!