I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of going to used books shops. I’ll never tire of walking in and taking a deep breath just to get a whiff of that old book smell. I especially like it when I see an old library card at the back of old books. Like this one at the back of a Longfellow’s poem collection.
I have to admit that I’m a little disappointed the card is void of borrowers. It would’ve been interesting to see a list of names, patrons of poetry written on the card. And dates. I would’ve loved to see the name of the last time someone borrowed it before it was put on a clearance bin for sale.
As well on this old copy of Emma by Jane Austen.
I’d like to think that the reason why these cards are empty was simply because they’re not the first cards on their sleeves, a refill, as it were. I’d like to think that the reason the books look so worn out is because they’ve been lent out, read far too many times to count, hence the “new” unfilled cards. It’s been years since I’ve been to the library. I tell myself that I’m doing my part by not borrowing books so others can borrow them instead of me.