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Nita Spittel - maple ridge, British Columbia (Canada):

April 09, 2001:
This book speaks in guttural sounds - trying to explain the dust
    on its
cover. Put on the wrong shelf long ago it sat like an
    orphan praying for
adoption. One day someone will discover the first edition of Dante's
Inferno and start a search for other treasured tomes. Then perhaps
the dust won't be as thick anymore.

April 11, 2001:
This book watches the girl comes in from school. It joins her
    in her journey through the galaxy .Touching the stars and planets, they
    soar and zoom in space.
She wears cinderella's silver slipper and it pretends to be the mouse
    turned into a gallant horse. Then they played and marched with the
    elves.
They have a lovely togetherness. But soon it's time to go home
    but the book invites her to hide in its pages full of
    formulas
the girl couldn't possibly undersand. She would have been intrigued. But
    the girl doesn't hear the book. She needs to go home to
    an empty house
And wait for her mother working long days reading manuscripts.

April 20, 2001:
At first I disliked the book. Fat and seldom read, it wears
    its gold letter on its spine like a scepter lording it over
    the not so fat ones.
I once saw a bespectacled man wearing tweed jacket with leather patched
    elbows,reached for the book. He looked like a professor, at least that's
    what I think a professor looks like. I watched him leafed through
    the pages with such reverence like touching a holy relic while a
    smile of conviction crossed his face.
That was when the book coerced me to open it. The words
    jumped out and made themselves at home in my cerebrum, slaking thirst
    I did not know I had. Water dranked in an arid desert.The
    book rode a camel sauntering by and was gone.
Later, I learned that the "professor" was an anxious man who knew
    that the book spoke the truth about nothingness.
And the man wants the book to stay with him when he
    tells his family, he lost his job three months ago.

April 27, 2001:
This book was kind. It saw I had lost my way in
    the meandering stream of cold water. It wraps its pages on my
    frigid frame, takes me by the hand and walks me to the
    water's edge where the sun shines warmly between giant tree shadows.
And then like ghost it melted into the deepening fog with its
    pair of angel's wings.
I could have sworn I heard it say "thank you".
Now, isn't that strange? A kind book, a dense forest , a
    cold stream and a brush with death and all I could hear
Is the reticent presence of empty space!

April 30, 2001:
The "Book of Forgotten Inventions" wanted to elope with a fashion model
    who really wanted to be an archeologist.
She had to earn money to go to the best school so
    she modeled.
She comes in at odd hours looking tired from constantly trying to
    look alive and fresh for the cameras and consumers.
One day, the book made itself fall from its shelf when the
    model was around. But she was already dating "The Book of Dreams."
The "Book of Forgotten Inventions" was crushed.