  Bethany Salmonson Composition 1-SBEssay 2 Julie Lundblad August 2004 A World of Words I walk along the rows of books.
My arm reaches out and my hand brushes across the spines. I feel the textured smoothness underneath my fingers and I take in a deep breath. I see the letters, I see the titles, but I don’t concentrate on the words. My mind is content to be numb in the familiar environment.
I don’t need to think in this place. I know the path to take and I know the curves and pointed edges. Every turn is dear to me. I smell the musty scent of old books. I pick up a well used book with a brown cover. It is a classic and has been read many times over by many people. Here it lies, one copy of a great masterpiece and it lies now forgotten in storage. I take it home with me. I admire the ripped binding and torn cover. This book almost tells two stories. The one that the author composed and the unwritten story that is lying in its outward appearance.
I stop to wonder how many hands have held this book, how many people have opened it’s cover. 
