I love books. The ones I can actually touch. I love the feeling of those rough edges by the tip of my finger. I love the smell of the musty scent on every page that linger.I love the color of the faded white pages turned into a crisp brown paper
I love every crease, every folds, every imperfect aspect I can find. Because one could never truly love books if one cannot appreciate it's physical state, the beauty of its words and the meanings behind.
BINABASA MO ANG
The Basement Writings
PoetryMga tula para mabasa Isinulat para makawala A compilation of senseless babbles, rambles and tattletales. Poems and proses written in a cellular basement level.
