"My name is whatever you decide and I'm just gonna call you mine:YOU WILL BE MINE. YOU WILL BE MINE. YOU WILL BE MINE ALL MINE"
That right there is a Swift/Rolling Stones mash-up...
I digress... What's on my mind?
Fret
I fret.
How do I organize my bounty?
What happens when your book collection is disorganized?
What I mean to say, I mean... I'm not trying to anthropomorphize books, but I'm inclined to anthropomorphize books.
After all, there's a lot to consider: personalities, genres, tone...
Would it be considered offensive for Camões' The Lusiads to be placed next to Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter?
What does Paul Bowles (The Spider's House) have to do with Hermann Hesse (Narcissus and Goldmund)?
What will Gavin Maxwell's (Lords of the Atlas) neighbor, Amin Maalouf (Ports of Call), think?
I could be wrong, but my instinct tells me that Carleton S. Coon (The Riffian) might consider it a travesty to be placed next to Tim Mackintosh-Smith (Travels with a Tangerine).
I am a peace keeper. Thus, Mohamed Mrabet's (Stories of Tangier) will referee between the two.
Who will fall from grace? Will I have to build a wall? The wall?
Perhaps 'they' will just all have to duke it out together and let the cards fall where they may. There is great potential for this to be the most organic solution amongst these strong personalities.
A heap. The motherlode. I hit the deep vein in Rabat. Dragging JC & J-Bird across town to Mohammed Belhaj's English BookShop, I indulged in my indulgence... Don't blame me. Books make me crazy. If they don't you ain't doing it right. This drug I'll be perusing all my life (yes, it's a strange nod to T.Swift...).
So yea, there you have it. I've admitted my weakness. Intervention. Nah. I cross the line, everytime.
It was a delightful find, Mr. Belhaj's English BookShop. He's famous, you know. He has this saying:
If you don’t have wrinkles on your forehead, says Mohammed Belhaj,
the books you’re reading aren’t making you think enough.
Because we were on a mission, I allotted only 30 minutes max to my endeavor. In the end, I lugged around 8 books as we made our way to Hassan Tower, the unfinished 12th Century mosque/miniaret.
The End.