Theres Something So Sensual About Reading A Borrowed Book:

there’s something so sensual about reading a borrowed book:

how did their fingers turn these pages?

was it a delicate flip of the top corner or was it frantic and hurried, punctuated with the sharp crack of folded paper?

did they clutch the book by its spine, supporting it in the nook between their ring and pinky fingers?

did they fall asleep while reading, leaving faint ink imprints and messy accidental creases on their cheeks?

how did their eyes dart around those words?

did they fold down the page to mark where they stopped or slip in a piece of paper in order to remember it?

did they carelessly throw the book on their desk or gently place it in one of their drawers?

better yet, did they forgetfully leave behind a piece of themselves, pressed between the pages?

a folded note crammed with messy thought? a cluster of words frantically scribbled in the margin?

did their scent permeate and fold into the hundreds of pages?

what tales can this book tell, not just by what is written in ink but rather what is silently spoken by the unseen ghosts of those who read that book before you?

hmmm

Miraculous milky way views form the roof of Australia at Charlotte Pass.

The first and most obvious aspect of [the joint legacy of Samhain and Hallowstide] is the keeping of All Hallows’ Eve as a feast, or time for socializing. In nineteenth-century Ireland, where most of the population had remained Catholic, the two traditions of origin were perfectly fused. Most families prepared an unusually good communal meal for the evening, the poor going about in the day ‘collecting money, bread-cake, butter, cheese, eggs, etc., etc’ from the wealthier homes, ‘repeating verses in honour of solemnity, demanding preparations for the festival in the name of St Columb Kill’. When all was ready, candles would be lit and prayers formally offered for the souls of the dead. After this the eating, drinking, and games would begin [P] In the Highlands of Scotland during the early part of the century, the night was regarded as ‘the most important occasion’ for family celebrations in the year. Household parties were also the rule in the Western and Northern Isles, with local variations such as separate suppers for boys and girls upon Lewis and a special ‘Hallowmas cake’ in the Shetlands.

Ronald Hutton; The Stations of the Sun: A History of the Ritual Year in Britain (via liminalblessings)

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