Folks think it’s weird when a bookmark costs more than the book itself, but how can I deny myself this little whim? The more expensive the demarcation, the better I like it. Anyway, words are cheap.
It’s the only reason I carry a book in my bag. Whenever I open it and look at my hidden treasure, my heart sings. But not in words. No. It’s an inner reverberation that conveys more meaning than the text I’ve already forgotten.
An added benefit is the gazillion groupies that clamour for my attention. Girls tend to crush on bookish boys, you know!