I happened upon a bookmark yesterday, those rectangular pieces of stiff paper that usually have something written on them.
They’re little billboards from an age gone by.
Bookmarks often promote a bookstore or a book. My father, who published his poetry, had his own bookmarks made. They were nice, textured, sky-blue paper, and one of his haikus was printed on it.
I had that bookmark, but I lost it.
The alternative to bookmarks, of course, is the dog-ear, which is an atrocity. I only did that as a last resort, a resort I rarely visited.
I say did, past tense, because it’s not needed now.
Bookmarks and the shameful dog-ears are fast approaching the end of their shelf life, so to speak. Who reads paper books anymore?
Oh, you do? Tsk-tsk.
We modern people use Kindles or one of its competitors. The obstinate among you continue slapping that buggy whip against your nag’s backside. In time, your nag will fall dead, and you’ll become modern people too.
It’s simple to bookmark a Kindle, just a soft touch.