Shelves and shelves

My bookshelves accuse me. Every day, I pass them by and continue not to re-read books I’ve read once or twice.

I don’t carry as many as I used to in my bike messenger bag, or pass them out to friends or leave them at cafes. It’s as if they don’t exist. And it’s not as if I don’t read anything. I’m just more about what’s online and linkable and maybe what’s on whatever device is within reach, or whatever others are recommending. I haven’t even given them the indexing they deserve on LibraryThing or Goodreads, because I’m less certain that I’ll keep as many in the coming year.

I always hoped I’d have a real library at home, but I never thought about what that would mean once virtual libraries became more available and persistent.