I love symbolism
I was volunteering at the bookshop, this book came in, it was about to be thrown away but I asked to see it.
An old dictionary. 1880s. Brown hardback. Signatures of the owner. Scratched cover. Peeling leather. Worn engraving. Worn and scratched spine. Rough texture.
Missing pages. Bent pages. Teared pages. Tiny writing in elequant detail. Folded pages. Aged pages. Smooth pages. Binded with faded string. Pages falling from its binding. Beautiful aged but loved aroma.
I kept it, in its broken state. It symbolises something to me, it means something…but what, I don’t know. It comforts me. I love it for every flaw and story found in its pages. The beauty of the English language in its older form. It’s hidden history. It’s strength.
I kept it when they wanted to throw it away. I love it for every flaw. It sits on my windowsill.
I think broken things are beautiful in their own way.
Please don’t overlook the broken…