I read an inspiring article today. Once I arrived at this part…

Though she loves all her materials and all her tools, it is paper that makes her really happy.

“To be a bookbinder, you have to be passionate about paper,” she says as she caresses a large sheet of handmade paper between her fingers. “And I am. I love paper.” She closes her eyes and smells the paper and gives it a sturdy shake just to hear the sound it makes. For a moment she is transported, borne away by smell, touch, sound to a better, more papery place.

…I had to stop and contemplate my love of paper. It probably goes back to the days when my dad owned a print shop. Even after he sold it, he still had friends who owned print shops. When he visited them, he’d bring me along. As a cute, out-spoken kid, the employees were happy to show me how the various machines worked. I grew to love the smell of ink and to appreciate the ink-stained hands of the print shop employees. Even the din of the machines wasn’t a problem.

But most of all, I loved the paper. I was often allowed to take some paper home with me and I amassed quite a collection. The variations in sizes, textures, and colors fascinated me, not to mention the many uses. Those pieces of paper are long gone, though I have quite a nice stationery collection now. In fact, aside from a book or cd, stationary is probably the best gift someone could give me.

On a side note, here’s a nice article about a rare book seller in New York.