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My bookshelf started when I was just getting into high school. My cousin was leaving for college, and she was desperately trying to get rid of many things in her room so she didn’t leave a bunch of her stuff in her mother’s house. I remember my cousin inviting us over (well, me specifically) because she knew I loved books. I still do. I’m a complete nightmare whenever I walk into a Barnes and Noble, and I almost cried tears of happiness when I walked into Powell’s Book Store for the first time. But, at the time my cousin invited us over, I didn’t have my own personal bookshelf. We had one bookshelf in our house, one that was crammed ...