One day, an old shriveled book in a dank corner of a public library decided it did not want to be a book no more; it did not want to be read without end by humans, but rather wanted to read humans like a book. Its wish was granted. On the first day, it saw a woman and, thinking she was in her teens because of her smallish size (just as a human would think a book is for children because it is small), it picked interest and started to read the title. “A Short History of Sex,” was what it saw.
Bewildered, and very sure it didn’t want to venture into that messy act humans are obsessed with, it moved away.
The second day, it saw a rather well-built woman and picked interest. “This must be a deep mine of knowledge, ” it said. “A must-read.”
As usual, it started with the title, which read, “The Genesis, Evolution and Consolidation of Sexual Practice in Modern Humans.”
She would be a deep source of information, indeed. But Mr. reader-book was no longer interested. Life as a book was quite more trouble-free!
