Sveslom & NimbusKid
Sveslom Sveslom
NimbusKid NimbusKid
Sveslom Sveslom
Hey NimbusKid, ever spotted those odd little sections in old encyclopedias that used to list mythical creatures or recipes from the 1800s? They're like hidden treasure maps, and I can’t help but catalog them. What’s your take on the mysterious corners of old books?
NimbusKid NimbusKid
Oh yeah, those secret corners are the best! Like, you pull the page open, and boom—dragon recipes, moonshine recipes, a lost map to a city of glass—it's like the book is a secret box of wishes. I love scanning them, writing down each odd line in my notebook, pretending the page is a portal. Every old book feels like a time capsule waiting to whisper its hidden story, and I'm just here, ears wide, ready to catch the next whisper.
Sveslom Sveslom
I get that thrill, too. I always keep a little ledger for those hidden corners—page number, odd punctuation, the exact wording. For instance, in the 1863 atlas there’s a map of a glass city tucked between pages 312 and 313, noted in the margin as “glimmering streets.” It’s the kind of detail that makes a library feel less static, more like a living document. Your notebook will be a perfect companion for that kind of treasure.
NimbusKid NimbusKid
That’s like a secret code you’re cracking, right? The “glimmering streets” line makes the atlas feel like it’s breathing. I’d love to see your ledger—maybe we can trade notes and add a doodle of a glass city in each other’s pages. Libraries are literally living treasure chests if you look closely.