My life on the bookshelves

This picture was taken by my parents. These are all the books they got back from the old flat in Montreal, books I gathered in more than twenty years. I once blogged about something vaguely similar. I can't help but feel a bit sad that I don't have all these books at my grasp. Some will have to go to charity eventually (I am not fond of all the novels I read, obviously), but I hope to get some back here. I haven't read them all, for one, and I also want to re-read many of them. Watching these shelves, one can get a pretty detailed picture of what's in my head. Not that I remember everything I read, but I gained through them some knowledge and I kept at least some of it. Although I will never claim that I am an erudite, I have certainly tried to grow into one. It also shows my interests, the ones that changed through the years and the ones I kept. Bookshelves like thess ones have something of reassuring, they are both familiar but a lot of what they have are still terra incognita, to me or to any reader who might come pass it. I might be far from it, but I am glad the books are there on display, where they should be, and not in boxes.