And yet I brought this little bound beauty home, to be promptly forgotten until this September. Spring had yet to bud, and my reading inclinations swayed to more science fiction hearty fair than Summerlong's fantastical promises. The walk home from the bookstore was grey. This is a book I had no intention of walking home with, but having surmised that the clerk may indeed be someone of merit, I bought it based on her recommendations. I am longing for Summerlong by Peter S Beagle. And so they sit, as do I, contemplating readable-worthy book purchasing while the sun slowly glints through the fall foliage and the winds gather momentum. I stare them down monthly, ready to trek them all off to the second-hand bookstore to retract, overwhelmed with ownership guilt. My home library has some duds - annoying hard-covers that have bullied themselves onto the shelves, smugly gathering dust, showcasing lack of purpose. That 'never to be read again' tagline beats deep down in my reading-heart, sighing for every sentence lost in time, and memory. What if I bring home something I hate, or worse, never read again. A library soul, the concept of a forever-book seems a tad sinful. Heart-wrenchingly annoying, my inability to commit to book-buying has brought me to this rather frazzled day. Eighty-nine dollars of credit at the local science fiction bookstore, and this girl has no idea what to buy.
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