With more than ten years of a self-defined affinity for books, I am a bookworm by heart. Besides the engaging contents – from stories, to poetry, to scientific concepts – books make a good company and can compel you to take your own radical reading and learning developments. To a large extent, my lived life so far can be best described by the extent of what I have enjoyed reading and what I currently enjoy reading.
That’s why it is disheartening to come to some low points when you see a part of your life getting ruined. Seeing books getting ruined is certainly disheartening. Termite attacks may no longer be new to me (having experienced such an attack twice in the past) but those incidents make you feel rather sad.
As I have observed before, termites often go for the old ones, books whose pages are already yellowing and getting brittle. Gone are my books by Tocqueville, Dickens, Upton Sinclair, among others. The only consoling thing is the fact that I have resources now to obtain new copies. But the one thing that money cannot buy at all is the ‘sentimental value’ of some of the books.
But no matter: I take joy in the books which survived the attack and those which remain intact. My accidental discovery of the attack late one night immediately necessitated several painful hours of ‘rescue and recovery’ work for the books (which consumed most of the wee hours of the following day). The pain was worth it, instead of losing all of the books placed in those set of shelves.
The termites’ newfound place may have been due to several house repairs done during the summer (which forced them to change their ‘niche’) or it may be due to the incessant rains in the recent weeks. If it is because of the latter, I hope that this would be a sufficient consequence of this year’s abnormal rainy season. I cannot afford to lose more of my books.
Nevertheless, an upcoming book fair would hopefully put a cap on these bookworm’s sad sentiments.