I like when I find bookmarks in my books, they are like timestoppers. When we place them we do it to mark a place, yet, we are doing more, and this extra is something elusive, at the moment, but powerful.
By marking a place, we actually mark the time too. We put a mark on the time in which we marked the place, and the two are inseparable, they are linked together.
So when we find one of such objects, say a bookmark within the pages of a novel we read when we were young, they can perform this magic, they do take us back.
They do it to me, at least. The cute dried lavender flower inside the page of the poetry book I opened this weekend was like teleporters taking me back in time.

Every time I find one such things in the books my mind can’t help going back to the moment I placed it, the moment I read that book, the moment I bought it, or the feelings I got when reading it. Memories that can be anything: the excitement, the dress I was wearing, thoughts of me in my room, the vision of myself reading in summer, by the sea, and on, and on, and on.

Magic, magic all around us

Small Gems.