as many of you well know, i have been, and will continue to spend 80% of my time in the library. at least for the foreseeable future. but c'mere now, that's not what i'm on about. work can wait, its the books that have got my eye.
inspired by their old, cracking spines, and their yellowed, furiously read pages, i tend to wander and take more breaks then i should, just to walk down another aisle and see what i stumble upon. just the other day i came upon a nice fat book about 2nd wave feminism. before that it was Lolita, before that a collection of pablo neruda's gorgeous poetry.
so what am i on about? well... i love books. i write in them, i highlight in them, i dog ear pages. this goes for all books, most any novel i've read is sure to be just as loved as any school book. but what i love just as much as books, are their homes. i long for the day when i can have wall to wall, floor to ceiling bookshelves. i want a library in my home. unrealistic, perhaps. (i blame it on the gorgeous library scenes in meet joe black. terrible film, gorgeous set.)
style-wise, i am oft drawn to anything that could be classified as 'country' 'antique' 'well-loved' or 'lived in'. modern, clean-cut is just not my jam. i love the mess. i love piles--albeit not everyone i live with is as enamored with my piles as i am--but i love them. i use stacks of books as a mini table for pictures. or just decor on their own because i love the diversity of their spines all in a row. and so, until i can have this gorgeous room of my own, here are some of the book houses i daydream about. some are definitely me, others are my attempt to give myself a little dose of modernity.
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