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| © Bobbie Rebultan |
A girl, barely an adult, crossed the room. Her footsteps echoed with sadness and curiosity. She held in her hand a piece of paper. On it is her mother's round cursive. "To my darling bookworm," it read. "May you find home in these pages as I have." With dark, inquisitive eyes, she gazed at the bookshelf in front of her, age-old and imposing with the amount of books it held. But it welcomed her, creaking softly as her hand pulled open its glass doors.
The girl reached up and took a dog-eared book from the shelves. It rested in her hands with a sigh, the sound of a soul finding its way home. Its spine made fragile by time, and its pages smelled of memory.
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The Book Cellar candle from Frostbeard Studio (@frostbeardmpls) featuring the first favorites to occupy my shelves. What it reminds me: discovery of long-lived treasures.
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Notice: Words and pictures are mine. If you want to borrow them, please read my Content Usage Policy here. Thank you! :)
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