I love
books. Always have. I love how they smell and feel, their
different textures and sizes, the way they weigh in my hands and lap, and the
foreplay of their pages against my fingertips.
I love the personality of their Titles
and
colorful covers and even their
solid-colored covers with no text—that’s so sexy. And how their inner parts get
laid, overlaid, blocked, flushed, and s t r e w n
across the territory of pages for readers’ consumption. The more delicious the content, the better.
I love making
books, too. It’s a
high form of meditation that centers me completely in the present, in that holy
state of “no mind” where thoughts yield to pure creative impulses. That’s where all the magic happens. That’s where the art gets made.
No comments:
Post a Comment