Even before I put my own juvenile ramblings on a page and called it poetry, I simply adored books!
I loved a new book with its crisp, unblemished pages, but eventually came to see, that a well-worn book was a good indication of its content value.
Sort of like people; older can be still be interesting and valuable.
And like people, books carry a plethora of unseen germs. I don't mean the kind of germs we share kissing relatives, shaking hands, or sitting next to a flu patient at the doctors...I mean the germs of human thought.
A book can inspire those wonderful pictures in our heads, the voices we hear in the dialogue, the smells and colors of a world. This world is newly created with the turn of every page, every phrase, every description and character.
The germ of imagination grows like a Mangrove forest; with intertwined roots, lending strength and life to each individual tree.
Every book holds that same possibility of stretching the human capacity to imagine something outside of ourselves. Our unfettered thoughts are interwoven with the living ideas planted there by the story teller.
So, pick up my books and get exposed to a few good germs...no Kleenex needed!