I stop reading books frequently. Just fall out of love while turning pages. Usually they go on the shelve. Maybe one day … Recently I started to abandon them. Makes more sense to me now: Very rarely have I seen something come around. Cases where the first quarter sucked, but then my life got altered in even the slightest way are far in between. They go into a box now. Which is probably not right either: Why should I clutter the world with bad things? Eventually somebody will find some books. And there they are: The good ones and the bad ones. All alike. But throwing a book in the trash is a weird thing that needs some getting used to.