Then today, when my search for a copy of The Unbearable Lightness of Being at my local independent bookstore fell short, I bought a book that wasn't it the best shape and had sun damage. I'm usually quite picky about the condition of the books I buy, both before the purchase and after, as I prefer to have them look unread for the span of their lives on my bookshelf. But this book, a copy of A Suitable Boy, looked much too forlorn for me to pass it by, especially as I have been wanting to read it for a number of years. Sure, it'll have to wait it's turn to be read, as I have a growing stack of unopened books on my floor, but at least it has a warm home, and shelter from the yellowing sun.
I've also done the same thing with clothing. In a couple of my favorite Etsy shops, if I notice that something has been listed for eons and hasn't yet been snatched up, I'll feel sorry for it and buy it myself. True, these pieces had previously sparked my interest and have become favorites of mine since they arrived in my mailbox, but if they hadn't have looked like sad strays in those shops, who knows when/if they would've been welcomed into my tiny cramped one-bedroom apartment. I fear that if I actually had a place with storage space, that I wouldn't hesitate to bring home whatever lonely thing I happened upon. But oh, how I long for a bungalow...
(Photo is the Sleeve Scarf from Cubist Literature's Winter 2009-10 collection)
