Billet Doux

Dear soulmate,

I have a confession to make. The idea has just hit me badly and I can't get it out of my system.
Do you remember those were just papers, old and new, frayed and burnt, smelly and oily, fresh or leafy, and yet, how much we craved for those, all the time?
Now, it seems the green leaves have taken over. We must put them back in their place and let the old, forgotten order reclaim its well-deserved place.
I have bought plenty of them today. My hands ached carrying the load, but my soul felt light. No pretensions, my baby, I really love the boring thing about leisure and flipping through them - from me to you and you to me (remember?), as if I were into a song and you, the mozart of love.
You know I could be a singer, or a belly dancer or an actor, but if we don't restore the paper, I can be nothing. We are what our patience for papers is.
Endurance and privacy - they help us build, page after page, as you straddle diverse, imaginary worlds. How you love the real and I love the imaginary can bring about a great collection, but most importantly, a posterity rich in thoughts, dreams and hope, and swelling with a certain kind of richness most capitalist paupers fail to acquire.
Let us then, darling, get back to more and more books. I spent 5000 rupees today. I hope you won't complain.

lovingly,
your nerdy pal dal.