"Perhaps they were right in putting love into books…Perhaps it could not live anywhere else."
- William Faulkner
I am, shamelessly and unequivocally, polygamous. I love them all—the young and tender with the freshness of transformed biology encoded into odors that waft heavenward upon my touch; the old, decrepit and worn but experienced in their ways, with surety acquired through trials and tribulations, warriors of times past, immortal and persistent; the petite and lovable; the large ones, limited in mobility, but vigorous and muscular; the speakers of foreign tongues, full of mystery, through sounds guttural and sensual caressing my soul through time honored vibrations; the intellectuals and academics, serious and reserved, yet wise, impartial, and logical, in argument always fair; the religious, shy and tremulous, but somehow, paradoxically, experienced and full of wisdom; the adventurous, walkers of the edge, always at the threshold of life and death, sweating, poignant and terminal, forever certain, forever willing.
You may find me scandalous, but what is a girl to do in this age of books, all ready for the picking, all vouching for my attention.
I can’t help but spread the love.Happy Valentine’s Day!
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