The act of collecting is very rewarding. . .(NOTE: I am referring to thoughtful collecting, not uncontrollable hoarding).
I started a new collection this week, pocket-sized theater books of Spanish plays performed in Madrid during the 1940's, 50's and 60's. Yesterday, 85 of them came home with me inside my Frida Kahlo tote bag. I stumbled upon these ephemeral pieces of literature during one of my impromptu visits to the Spanish bookstore, Las Américas.
The curious titles and colorful covers completely hypnotized me. I really think they were waiting just for me. Is it crazy to think that books have souls and that somehow they come into your life when you most need them? I know, very Fahrenheit 451...thank you Ray Bradbury!
The complete collection is composed of about 600+ books and I want them all. Can you imagine? Never mind the intense reading task at hand, but more importantly, where am I going to store 600 books? I imagined them individually framed and all over my walls. Yes I know, a beautiful and expensive vision. I am tempted to start a blog specifically for this collection...hmmm...an art grant would be nice. Any ideas?
If bookstores and books in general become obsolete one day, future generations will be robbed of these small but joyous serendipities...sad, sad, sad.
A few of the titles. . .
La vida es un hilo. . .Life is a thread.
La playa vacia. . .The empty beach.
Los nuevos burgueses. . .The new bourgeois.
La maleta. . .The suitcase.
Espejo para dos mujeres. . .A Mirror for two women.
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