The title of this fortnight’s installment should tell you everything, isn’t that so? Let’s just start in a more formal way, then:
My name is Fabio Fernandes, and I’m a book addict.
So far, no biggie, right? That’s what all of you must be thinking. After all, if you are reading this column (and by now you really should know what this column is about), you must love books, so that makes you, dear reader, a colleague, an associate, an accomplice, a sister or brother in vice.
If you can see yourself in me, then you recognize the symptoms: the dry mouth, the sweaty palms, the accelerated heartbeat every time you pass in front of a bookstore. It doesn’t matter if it’s a good one or a rattrap, a used bookstore with a veritable treasure trove so far hidden from other eyes (for naturally only you, and nobody else, could see the value in that, yes, that dusty Charles Eric Maine pocketbook or, say, a rare Chad Oliver first edition, or even that one fairly recent Karen Traviss’s Wess’har novel you needed to complete your collection…)
You know what I mean.
Therefore, you will already believe me when I say it’s not different in the world of e-books. Not at all.
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