I love my history text book. It's literally filled with history. I love how old it looks, like it has lived through all the wars and rebellions and lived to tell the stories. I love how soft it feels, how the spine bends so willingly, how the pages whisper past so gently, how the edges curl so easily, all at the slightest touch. I love the dog-eared pages, the folds, the creases. I love the footnotes left behind by my seniors in their own brand of font and how, in a single page, there are five different handwritings jostling for space. Some messy and quickly scrawled, some tall and thin, some so neat it looks printed. I love the random doodles, drawings and bits of personality stamped upon the margins by previous owners. I can see them, faceless figures hunched over books or spread out on the floor or lying on their stomach on their beds. I love how the black and white photos are ridiculously tampered with, how caricatures are playfully drawn onto the backgrounds..
Most of all, I love adding to that mess :)
ps. I don't think this is the first time I've gushed over old books and it won't be the last :p
pps. hey, history, could you perhaps return the favor and love me back? I mean, I really want straight As...