I found this book the other day on the shelves of the local bookstore. I’m not too sure about the book’s author and where the book originated — was I in the humor section? It almost seemed like satire. Definitely ironic. But it was in the Health and Wellness section of the bookstore.
After I recovered from reading the title and the author of the book, I photographed it. I have no idea if the contents are worth reading or not. I didn’t touch or open the book. After all, I wasn’t wearing gloves. Just a mandated, cloth mask. And there were no other humans nearby.
I wonder about this book. Why it was written. Why it was translated for us. Why it is prominently on display in a bookstore that is open while churches, libraries, and other places are closed.
On some level, it almost seems insulting.
I don’t usually complain about books. If I don’t want to read it, I won’t. And I won’t spend too much time thinking about a book I don’t want to read.
This one is a different story. (On so many levels.)
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