I hate old books with a passion. I hate them. The way the smell, the way they tear appart, the vibe they give me of a forgotten world, a world I had never been in, a world I cannot recognize.
Classics I don’t mind that much. I read them. I cry for them. I love with them. I get them. Sometimes.
Posted this book because it kind of looks like a Grimoire. Gave me those witchy vibes that I am so interested in ✨ Autumn is closer even if the sun outside is still warm. We are all blessed.
But the real gems are the new books. Their smell of a new era, their beautiful fresh pressed covers, the white pages with the blackest ink… Their vividness. They are alive.