Books are one of my favorite things in the world. Full of exciting new worlds and adventures that I may never go on, places I dream of visiting, regretting that most of them are not real. Going into book stores and browsing the shelves for hours, bringing home new treasures. I probably own a few hundred books, the three book shelves in my room are all almost full, and those don’t even include all the books a haven’t read yet that I have stored in my sister’s old room, about a hundred more books sitting in boxes, stacked beneath the window sill, waiting to be read and share their worlds with someone. Some so old the lettering is faded and they were written on a typewriter, read and reread hundreds of times and owned by who knows how many people, some brand new and modern, waiting for their spines to be cracked for the first time, maybe to go to new owners someday, and in a few decades become just as well loved and worn as the cracked as the classics on the shelf next to them are, hoping to become classics themselves one day.
For me, this piece would work better for week 11 if the first two sentences were dropped. Everything in those two sentences is implicit in what follows, which is quite strong, so why not let the reader figure it out a little--that gives the reader a buy-in you don't get otherwise. Sometimes less can be more!
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