There is nothing like a book, nothing like a book

A loyal friend, this old stand-by waits for me. A book can be owned, borrowed, snatched or lent. It is rectangular and ready for action. Ready to be read, purused, devoured, scanned, studied or skimmed-books awaits my attention.
A challenge to my intellect, this friend relieves my boredom. A book can be loved again and again, or read once and remembered long. With a beginning, a middle and an end, the book has structure and form that invites my engagement with it.
A mystery awaiting solution, this potential companion asks for my acquaintance. Not understood at first, the book's plot or point unfolds bit by bit, page by page. As I read on, the characters become my friends or foes. The setting becomes familiar. I get to dwell in the place with the author.
An experience to be savored, the action pulls me in, the thoughts and feelings follow. I read a bit at a time, or insatiably. I struggle to get into the book at first, or I am hooked from the start. The book engages me for a time - a week, a month or more. I see the outlines of the story emerge, grow mature and then complete itself. Truth or fiction, the volume has enriched me in ways unlike anything else. And I am grateful.
Myth is the public dream, and dream is the private myth. - Joseph Campbell
My topical post today at South by Southwest is about activism.
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