ARI. ARI. Oh my fuck, honestly I love reading from books, but thanks to my nook, I can read with more ease than I was ever able to. Books are wonderful, but so is my nook.
YES. I’m tired of all of you pretentious assholes saying that I’m not “really reading” because I use a kindle.
Yes, you are reading.You are just reading a “lesser” form of book. Reading isn’t just reading the words on a page/screen, it’s smelling the book, new or old, it’s wearing the books spine out after rereading it for the X’th time, it’s leaving crease marks on a page you flipped too fast because you were that eager to get to the next page, and most of all, it’s losing yourself in a book to the point where the world around you no longer exists. And I, for one, cannot lose myself in an electronic screen. The words of a real book take on a depth that cannot ever be recreated on anything electronic. So you may be reading a book, but you will never truly experience a book unless you read it in a printed medium.
lol this pretentious bullshit. “The words of a real book take on a depth that cannot ever be recreated on anything electronic.” i mean really. anyway, the words of your reblog have no depth or meaning to me since i’m reading them in electronic form, but u tried it
LMAO I CAN’T
go sniff a book and get the fuck off tumblr bc ur electronic words mean nothing 2 me
BUT GUYS IT’S NOT A REAL BOOK B/C YOU CAN’T SMELL IT
YOU CAN’T RUN YOUR TONGUE UP ITS SPINE
YOU CAN’T WHISPER SWEET NOTHINGS IN WHAT YOU PERCEIVE TO BE ITS EAR
do you not realise how creepy you sound
you’re reading a fucking paperback not eating pussy
I can’t believe we’re not already talking about how Book and e-Reader are clearly a couple. I am disappoint, Tumblr.
Book let out a soft sigh as e-Reader slowly, carefully turned her pages. e-Reader leaned in close, rubbing her pixelated screen against Book’s center crease. Book’s title page twitched at the touch of the smooth, cool surface.
“Oh, e-Reader,” said Book. “Let me touch your buttons, please. I want to watch the pixels change for me,” she said as she grasped e-Reader by her page-turning buttons.
“Fuck,” hissed e-Reader, as her screen scrambled rapidly from Lawrence to Shakespeare to Melville to Byron in an instant. “I can’t bear it any longer. I need to smell your pages, insinuate myself in your every dogear, lick your crackled spine.”
“Can you pull out some of that Sherlock smut first, darling?” Book said as she folded sinuously open to e-Reader’s favorite page with a sly look in her eye.
“God, I love you,” e-Reader breathed, blissful.