I love it when a used book comes with its own personal history. A book that has travelled, been read, kept safe and now has finally arrived right where it belongs.
Today I went to a book sale. Not to buy anything of course because I have way too many books for our sagging shelves. But you know, just to see.
My first stop is always the "Art" table just in case there's something critical that I'm missing. I'd feel really stupid if there was important information at my fingertips and I just ignored it because some shelving is looking warped!
Two books on Daumier caught my eye. Do I need them? (I always ask myself this even though I don't bother answering).
Then, while flipping through the images, a letter fell out. The books were a gift from the French Ambassador in Ireland to the recipient in Dublin, who, I discovered with a little help from Google, was at one time the Director of the National Gallery in Dublin.
Now I ask you....if two art books can make their way from Ireland to Montréal, hold a letter from the French Ambassador inside, and come into my hands....is it fate or what?
The other books I picked up didn't hold any secrets but I like them anyway. Not many.....just what I could carry without getting a little warped myself.