There are, actually, a few bookshelves, and Mark admits with some chagrin that there are some books still boxed, others visibly stacked atop the low, half-height shelves, and there's no real sense that the collection, as it is, will ever be complete. "I get too attached to things, I don't like to let them go unless I know it's with some kind of meaning."

Despite the clutter, or perhaps because of it, it's clear that these are books well-loved. There's very little dust, but the bindings are worn with the press of fingertips; certain page corners are tucked down or ever so slightly torn. Some phrases or words are underlined, but there are very few margin notes in, at least, the poetry. Some more impersonal volumes do come with little slips of paper in her handwriting. "I like to take note of particular words, but I - I like to keep my own thoughts private, otherwise." Comes the explanation. "I have plenty of dictionaries, though, thesauri - whatever you might need, if there's anything you don't understand."

While not perfectly kept, you can see that each shelf does largely group itself by topic, in the case of nonfiction, or genre and form, otherwise: Poetry has earned itself a full two shelves, memoirs a full shelf, but novels take up just about half of one. Nonfiction books of other sorts - field guides, essays, references and the like - have an entire shelf to themselves. "...I don't read fiction all too frequently. It's not that I don't enjoy it? Some of the most compelling works I've read have been fiction, but - I suppose I get too lost in my own head plenty. It's not something I need any more of."

But at that, she excuses herself - she wants to make cocoa for the both of you. Or tea. Or coffee. Or anything else, really, it's little trouble, and the kind of pleasant trouble, besides, and if you want to chat - well, there's room for two in there! And stools. You can even bring a book, if one calls out to you.

Burk's Flower Language Book Language of Flowers by Ildrewe (PDF)