Within Its Pages

If there is one thing I love most about books other than their stories is the smell. You know, the smell that comes from the pages of almost every book that exists? Something about that smell makes me feel. I mean there's nothing better than picking up a book you haven't even began reading, opening it, and just smelling the pages. It's like the smell holds a story of it's own.
The story of that smell differs for every single person. Mine tells the story of a thousand characters loved and hated; it tells of songs heard, pages read, questions asked, and knowledge gained. The story tells of young girls who are lost in the woods, of people running from the most unheard of dangers. The story reminds me of the stories that I read long ago that I used to love more than life itself; the stories that get lost in the corner of my mind and can only find their way back when I'm not thinking about it.
The smell reminds me of nights I spent reading in the front yard when I was young, and summers spent pondering what will happen to your favorite character by the end of the book. It's as if the story documents every book I've ever read and what happened in my life while reading those books. It's the story of my life. The smell is my story. The smell is my life.
I know this is probably one of the weirdest things for me to say, but I'm sure there is at least one other person in this class who honestly loves the smell of books as much as I do. The smell of the page of a book is one of the most precious smells in the world. Not one thing could replace the feeling that the smell gives me. All my life I'll be able to open a book, smell the pages, and remember stories and experiences that I haven't thought about in a long time.

So there you have it. My favorite thing in the world lies within the pages of almost any book you open. :)