Whenever I find myself in a second-hand shop I always make a bee-line for the book section.
In the book section, treasures can be found.
I define 'treasures' as antique books.
I also define 'antique' as anything made before my parents were born (I'm not sure if this is technically correct).
The last time I was in the book section of a second-hand shop, I found this little treasure in amongst the redundant dictionaries and parenting guides from the '80s.
How do people part with books that still have brown pages and covers made from cardboard and fabric?
I'm reading it at the moment. It's very hard to take in the story, however, when one is constantly distracted by the book itself.
By page three, I was calculating how old the book actually was. It's 80 years old. Wow.
By page twelve, I was imagining life 80 years ago. This book was bought before World War 2. Wow.
By page fifteen, I was turning back to the first page of the book to look at this beautiful handwriting again:
I wonder who 'Our Eldest One' was? There actually is a name on the inside of the cover: Lily W. Foster.
It's hard to imagine that the book I'm now reading was once held by a girl called Lily, who lived in Australia before World War 2.
Maybe I'm strange, but that just fascinates me to no end.