These beautiful cloth-bound books from Anthropologie. Once again I am drawn to books, like a moth to a flame, except the books don't kill me, in fact, quite the contrary. Here is something I wrote about books recently...I have this dreadful habit of acquiring old crumbly books. They seem to have a whisper of eternity about them. The written word, passed down from generation to generation. Containing the genius and creativity of men and women long dead, but still so relevant that the authors scarcely seem dead.
No comments:
Post a Comment