A Four-Book Day

"Hungry man, reach for the book: it is a weapon."
-Bertolt Brecht

On Sunday we gallivanted to our new favourite thrift store and dug out the following treasures:

Albert Camus: The Plague
William Trevor: The Story of Lucy Gault
Colin Turnbull: The Forest People
Ellen Raskin: Figgs and Phantoms

None of the books resemble each other in content; they are as eclectic as it is possible to be at the price of a dollar each.
Ostensibly that activity did not align with our intent to live the uncluttered life. Were we to indulge in the exercise on a regular basis we would be far, too far from our dream of being able to carry our home on our backs in the admirable way that a tortoise does. Once in a while we might venture to such stores and, being careful indeed in our selection, treat ourselves to a wonderful hour of combing through the jumble. It is, for us, all about the search for books and about the exploration of unchartered corners.
During one delicious spell I was up to my elbows in discarded books and, oblivious to all else, was burrowing through an enormous skip of joy, armed with a capacity for dust and a fine measure of anticipation.
I must say thank goodness that each person varies from another:
one man's meat is another's poison, and somebody's tattered trash might be my idea of a pearl.