I have my book, a pen and a cup of tea. I hold the book with both hands to feel its weight and the texture of its cover. I run my fingers over the edges of the pages so that they can fly through the air. I smell it and touch it to my cheek. Then I open it, not to the page I last read, but much earlier than that. I read over the sections that I have underlined. I re-enter its world and remind myself of where I am. I often long to connect with the text in ways that expand my experience. So I write notes on post-its of images to include on its pages. I hunt for those images in my massive picture collection or on the internet and carefully tape them onto the pages so that the text is not permanently covered. The images become new pages that I can flip up to reveal their connections underneath. Sometimes I use other materials to illustrate an idea. I have included little bags of sand, sticks, quotes from other books, postcards and fabric. I have sewn a design with thread onto a page. At times, I have attached photographs so that the book also becomes a personal journal.