Life right now looks like a lot of strange things. Empty shelves. A messy bedroom that’s become quite the creative vacuum. Cardboard boxes full of books.
Since when did I come to own over 300 books? Not really sure how that one happened. But I suppose libraries don’t really happen; they become. One series there, a good biography over here, and that collector’s edition you found at the thrift store and just had to have for your shelf. And soon enough, it’s more than you can handle—a collection of books you fear you’ll never have time to reread.
Dark? Yes.
But the idea of library shelves just connects with too much in my life for me to pass up on the metaphor. I’ve been tossing around a pretty earth-shattering (for me) metaphorical theory that friends are like clothes and our closet can mirror our friendships. (Probably going to do a whole post on it in the future. Stay tuned.) However, it’s just occurred to me that the same parallel could be made with friends and books.
Continue reading “empty shelves + extended metaphors”
