It's books in all their shapes and forms. It's talking about your favourite books, and asking if they've ever written one, and fixing a time to watch the movie version of one. It's lending each other dog-eared paperbacks and fighting over a beautiful copy of a classic and wrapping up different novels for birthdays and Christmases. It is searching for one thing in a bookshop and bumping into someone you never expected to be there.
And it's book cases too. Seeing what people keep close by on their bedside tables and what they re-read so often that it never makes it's way back to the shelves. What has a creased spine and what has been kept perfectly intact.
This Saturday was one of books for me. Pulling out my hefty tome in a little cafe, and accidentally finding books I wasn't really looking for in the library. Perusing in the bookshop with no intent of buying, and coming out with a bag. The lady at work who put aside a 99p copy of a book I need to read for school, and taking a book from my brother's room, with no intention of returning it this time.
And if someone scanned the titles of those books, I think they would know me pretty well. They would know me even better by the stacks of books in my room though.