Remember the past, when we were young, when we had to read these books out of a reading list, and write silly old book reviews. Remember when we had an amaazing amazing amazing brown oak library in a half basement corner of the school, with no windows, no sunlight, no voices to be heard. Remember this reading list, this library, these half worn books with authors that had old names, names no longer used in new babies. Remember the tall tales we read, yes those old times we lived through, the fantasy worlds, the family lives we delved into like a third eye, the young men and young women we commiserated with, and wished we could be, the societies we went into and out, the pasts of Austen and Shakespeare, the futures of Asimov and Card, the nightmares of Carrol and Orwell.
What did these books do to us and our minds? Where is it stored in our memories and our actions? These ideas take root in us, broaden our perspectives, makes us wise, makes us old, makes a 20 year old as complicated as a 200 year old.
Do we still have time to pick up books to read? Proper books. To sit, to think. To discuss, to share to write to listen to others. Why not.
I was browsing in the bookstore. I saw the spine of Foundation, by Asimov. Foundation. How aptly named. Foundation as a turning point in mankind’s history. The point when we started to dream differently, when we thought about what could be, what would be, what might be, and how this fictional reality might just come true.
It is somewhat nervewrecking to hold in your hands a book that you know has changed many things. A piece of writing that contains images, thoughts, knowledge, facts, new facts, new knowledge that has changed people, that continues to be talked about, written about, that appears in writings near and far, that is referenced.