For so long, I considered myself one of those people who turned up their nose at the advent of digital devices, proclaiming and affirming my lifelong commitment to physical books. The touch, the smell, there’s nothing that compares to the feeling of walking into a bookstore (or library) and feeling the weight of a book in your hands — or the satisfying snap of the spine as you turn the last page at the end of its journey. “Tapping” a book closed on a screen sounded like the most unsatisfying way to finish a book (IMO).
My affinity for “REAL” books was so profound I refused to even acknowledge the existence of eReaders for decades.
And then, I moved in with my boyfriend.
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