As you lay the old book down, does its accordion of pages sigh, as the breath is taken from its lungs. Gravity folding the pages back onto themselves. Does it long for your return, to bring the words up off the pages, to dance in the symphony of mind, arranging their structure and meaning. Or does it simply lie at rest, knowing its truth, content with reading silently to itself, knowing its beginning and its end.
Image and Words by: Josh Fleming