Left behind.

I opened an old book at a used-book store and a hotel cocktail napkin with a room number printed on it fell out from between its pages. I imagined someone reading a book, being interrupted, and reaching for the nearest thing at hand to mark their place. What story did the napkin tell?  

I purchased the book solely on the basis of this forgotten bookmark.

I began to collect the odd things left behind between the pages of the books I bought. They offer a glimpse into other readers’ lives that they never intended for us to see, while withholding the full stories they tell.

I would describes them as treasures within treasures, like bits of random ephemera left inside books often untouched for decades, which leaves me with a misplaced sense of nostalgia.

I adore finding left-behind mementos in books (even my own).  And to those who have ever left something behind in one; I am indebted.

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“If you take a book with you on a journey, an odd thing happens: The book begins collecting your memories. … .” ~Cornelia Funke