The Internet has certainly altered my reading habits. I used to have a crave for books but the time I spent straining my eyes on books, gradually sucked in by the irresistible appeal of this digital library with unlimited opportunities.
Though, the more Internet was invading my life, the more I was getting interested into dusty books, forgotten somewhere in an attic, exhaling musty and mothballs smells. Those books had a life of their own and seemed to take a new breath of life, once the dust blown and the cobwebs swept away.
Immediate contentment, readiness, efficiency are featured among the undeniable advantages. However, the more I surf on the Internet waves, the more I lose profoundness, the more I deprive myself from the benefits of slowness. My passion for reading was waning but the need for physical contact with books, remained.
Brushing a book is touching the past with the tip of your finger and of your soul. The old paper has kept its ghosts which are released when dogeared pages are turned. It feels like the heady perfume of a dry rose is wrapping around my inquisitive forefinger. It feels like ancient sensations are slipping under your skin to reach your nerves and spreading through your body slowly inhabited by past spirits.
If I like sniffing pages of a brand new book, I must say that the steep price has eventually put me off. I favor low prices old books that you can still hunt out in some second-hand bookshops. Travel through time starts there.
No PC keyboard in the world is able to carry on this unique, voluptuous sensation. When paper books have disappeared, some old rare volumes will remain, like some museum artifacts, relics of an era when literature was blooming on delicate and scented materials, when literature was leading to a taste for words and cogitation.