Letting Go.

The shelves are constantly overflowing. I almost never get rid of books, although I probably should more often. When I do, however, I usually leave them behind at Stadsmissionen Hornsgatan - they're quite good at displaying, especially their paperbacks. Seems to be such a sweet place for the small ones to hang out with some like minded before being transferred to their new homes. 

There's been one pile lying around, though, that I haven't had the heart to bring with me: hardcover editions of a few of my favourite novels. Took them to the flea market yesterday and after having just two old men even looking their way, I decided to give them away for free while packing up the car. Was pleased to see two teenage girls grab a few (Burroughs? Shakespeare?), and then a lady in her fifties reading the back cover of Jeanette Winterson's Gut Symmetries with a curious expression. I told her to please read it as it's really dear to me, and then pointed to an old Sun Axelsson I once loved and that I imagined she might like. She seemed truly happy and said she never would have chosen those if I hadn't talked so warmly about them. 

Open recycling will be my next big thing.