Like the stump of a dead tree, a salutary reminder of the raw material from which books are made, the accumulation of paperbacks blocked my narrow hallway. Absent a forest nymph to lend poetry to the pile of prose, I started a while back to take downstairs to the waste paper container five or six books each time I leave the flat.
Progress is being made! As predicted on 20 May here, Kindle shall prevail.
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