This is a book. It is a book I found in a box. I found the box in the attic. The box was in the attic, under the eaves. The attic was hot and still. The air was stale with dust. The dust was from old pictures and books. The dust in the air was made up of the book I found. I breathed the book before I saw it; tasted the book before I read it. P. Harding
About This Quote

This is a book. It is a book I found in a box. I found the box in the attic. The box was in the attic, under the eaves.

The attic was hot and still. The air was stale with dust. The dust was from old pictures and books.

The dust in the air was made up of the book I found. I breathed the book before I saw it; tasted the book before I read it. is a poem about how we often take things for granted until we lose them or until they are taken from us, but that we tend to remember more vividly if we have lost them or if they were taken from us than if we had never owned it at all.

When you take something for granted, you forget just how good it feels to hold it in your hands or how wonderful it feels to see your favorite photo or photo album or playbill again.

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