In praise of second-hand booksBetween the pages of an old, sodden book lay an unclaimed eyelash, a lash that held the life story of the reader before myself. In one strand of being was a world of imagination, beliefs, standards that I could only debate.In praise of second-hand books
The notes adorning Leroux’s masterpiece claiming Eric to be ruthless, heartless, a murderer, a notion I should truly oppose. Yet it is the perfect penmanship of the critic that really encapsulates my senses.
The inside of the front cover knows more names that one could imagine, slashed one after another until it came to a final decision on: Benjamin Sommers. Between pages eight an
