Where Be Dragons?

The last time I was at a Brick-n-Mortar bookstore I was in to browse the shelves for inspiration. Personally, I find the various titles on the covers to be a long, bemusing poem.

I see myself to as one of the DIY denizens. I prefer to immediately try to hack the layout logistics behind the store. I try plotting the X Y co-ordinates within my primal brain's spacial memory. It's about the skilled hunt by use of the old tools from a by-gone era. An ancient world that only saw Google as a misty star on the morning horizon.

I brave these dense worlds of dried, dead-tree forests not as a form of machismo, but as one of final conquest. The last untamed worlds are those that can be created inside our minds. These newly found books take hold in the soil and grow the gnarled jungles of imagination. I trek on not merely for the glossy periodicals and sandal-wood candles, but for a fertile ground to gather crop for my future.

For I like big books; that I cannot lie.