Simply collecting dust in the obscure corner of my basement completely abandoned: this is the sorry state of my books that I've collected, and spent a lot of money on, throughout the years. It's rather sad that I've left them there to rot.
But today I decided to pay them a visit and spend a good 30 minutes or so looking through them, getting re-acquainted with the good memories I've shared with them once upon a time, and spotting gems that I had forgotten about—books that had back then provided me with incalculable wisdom, knowledge, and solace.
Then I pulled a book out, one after another, until I had 8-10 tall piles of books; and I brought them up to my room, pile after pile, making many, many trips up and down the flight of stairs from the basement to my room on the second floor.
The bookshelf in my room is not big, nor do I especially like the design, but it can hold a fair amount of books. The past few years I've been using it as a sort of display, where I would place photo-frames, awards, or stacks of papers there. But now I want to welcome my books back into my room—where they belong!
The next task is organizing them; maybe by genres.
