Everytime I try to go past a bookstore I fail. I have to go in and have a look. No, I don’t want to buy something, I just want to have a look. But I could actually buy one, only one book. It has been a busy week, and I could reward myself.
But which book to choose? I love detective stories, and historical novels, and fantasy books, and … In the end I leave the store with two books. At home I look at my book shelves and sigh – they are all crammed with books.
Some of them I haven’t read for decades. I bought them in my twenties and kept them for the memories which are attached to them. Some of the books in my shelves were books which I haven’t read completely. The title of the book promised more interesting content than the book itself provided. I kept them because decluttering them made me feel ashamed of my lacking ability to assess the book properly.
But then I was seized by a decluttering attack. A few houses away from where I live is a social institution which collects books and other things and sells them for a low price. So my books would not be thrown in the trash can (something I cannot do with books), but offered for other people to read.
In the beginning it was very difficult to select a book for donation. But I asked myself if I would ever read that book (again), and after answering the question with “no” things went pretty easy. I got two plastic bags filled with books (they were all in a pretty good shape), and yesterday I parted with the last one.
Now I look at one of my shelves, and actually I’ve got a lot of place for new books. Ah well! Off to Amazon…