Book, Chocolate and Coffee
It was a job I've been putting off for a long time. My library needed to be edited. I had to download some books and magazines from the shelves and make room for the books I have acquired in recent years.
Finally, I grabbed the library. I'm just at the beginning. I am determined to finish it until the new year. I'm not in a hurry. I am moving slowly.
Whichever book I pick up, I dive into the sea of memories as if I met a friend I haven't seen for years. Some books, my dear friends. I remember almost everything about them. What he told me, his suggestions, the sentences that I unquestionably accepted or objected to preserve their freshness and vitality in my memory.
I feel like I've seen some books for the first time. Neither the author, nor the cover, nor the title, nor the content ... When I realize that I cannot remember them, I have a strange feeling. I look, I look again; I say "I couldn't take you out, I'm sorry" .
Thank God I remember most of the books I picked up. They must be my old friends. I could not imagine this much. What a joy ...
My book friends! They never left me alone. A friendly book made me a friend with another book. That's how we multiplied.
I realized again a pleasure that I felt in my childhood but did not share with anyone. I would smell odors that I couldn't describe from the books I picked up. Some books smelled better than others.
I was introduced to the smell of paper and ink during the years I started journalism. For years I have inhaled the cellulosic odor from paper reels and the oil-heavy odor of the ink.
In new magazines and new books, I would gladly breathe the thinned, slightly softer state of the intense smell of the printing house. Just as drug addicts look for substances that 'make them high', I could not keep myself away from this smell.
The books smelled so good that I started to believe that I bought books for this feature more than the contents.
Then I felt that each book had a different smell. I had the delusion that the book reflected the scent of its content or its author.
I came to the judgment "comes from the simplicity and authenticity of the author's expression" for books whose scent I like very much. I felt that each sentence carries a different smell at the same time.
While I was editing my library, it was as if I had entered a perfumery lab. I was in a fragrance pool that I know, know, love, but cannot name.
The scent in the books was real, not a delusion. A research was conducted at University College London on the smell of old books. It turns out that the old books smell sweet and musky. This smell sounds like chocolate to many people.
Chemist Matija Strlić, who is also an archivist, saw that archivists smelled the books they were working on. He asked why they were smelling. Archivists said "Smell can tell a lot about the material used in the book" .