1 year ago
June 21, 2012
For as long as I can remember, I have always loved the smell of books. I distinctly remember being in my elementary school library and not being able to resist the intoxicating scent of the paper and ink. I've done this pretty much my whole life- and still do it today.
I can't tell you why I love the smell of books, but I do. Library books, school books, store books, used books. Doesn't matter. They all have a smell and I love it. To me, it smells of imagination. An imagination that is about to come to life and take me on a journey or tell me a wonderful story.
For a long time, I was embarrassed about it. I tried to disguise it and come up with a decent reason for why I just planted my face in the middle of a book. People would look at me with an odd look on their face that wreaked of nonacceptance. Now that I'm older, I don't care. I've come to learn that we all have weird things we do, and this is mine. It also helps that I don't take my all consuming whiff around people I don't know.
My oldest daughter does it. She may be doing it just because she's seen me do it, or she may love the fragrance as much as I do. Who knows. I love the smell of books and I doubt that will ever stop!