“Vellichor: the strange wistfulness of used bookshops” -John Koenig’s Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

Standing on a precipice

Of lives created

Begging to be told

To be understood

To be felt

Beyond who we are

Feeling what was created

Out of sorrow





Spilt onto folded papers

That were loved

As closely as skin

That had been brutally mangled

And needed repairs

Needing to be beyond reality

Above the everyday scenery

Underneath warm blankets

That didn’t tell us how late it was

Because that smell of bound leather

Is a reminder

Of what humanity has accomplished

Has overcome

Has created

Because all of the bonfires in the world

Can not consume the stories we have told

And passed down

Evolved into a texture

We caress between fingertips

Walking up and down isles

Loving the handwritten notes on dog eared pages

When generations have passed

This place will show the future how they lived


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