Aesthetic Book Pictures Novels & Stories

It was like a group of flowers scattered freely in a field. A boutique caught Maia’s attention because of its large and colorful displays outside. It was a bookstore that made her very happy. She went inside and was amazed at the beauty and order of the whole area. If the outside is beautiful and colorful, the inside is even more elegant. It was as if the objects designed in the whole room came out of the book and it was as if she was in another dimension.

It was a space designed purely for quiet study, and reverence. “These two shelves here are all about the mate bond,” Thefros said, gesturing toward a pair of bookcases halfway down the room. “Lore, case studies, theory. Everything we’ve managed to preserve.” I nodded, pulling down five books at random and settling at the table under the nearest lamp. Thefros took a seat opposite, already flipping through his own selection with practiced ease. The pages felt heavy in my hands, textured like something handmade. These books hadn’t touched a printer, some were written in fading ink, others illuminated with strange symbols or brutal sketches. One book was nothing but badly rhymed poetry pretendin

Astrid went to the very corner of the library where the books that belong to the mystery section were located, she was fond of reading mystery genre books as well as horror. She already has many collections at home but she wants to explore more. "Nice," her eyes were fixed on a book when she read its title. "Arts of Death, photography and reasons." Her attention was immediately hooked by it so she hurried and picked it up and brought it to the selected table. Many things were bothering her mind while opening the book. The feeling of enthusiasm-her eyes sparked upon seeing the pictures from the book, trying to focus her eyes to the left page wherein a dead bird being pinned in a transparent w

As I continued through the book, the daylight faded behind me. The images of the bloodied war shift to the image of a woman wrapped in silk like clothes, adorned in jewels, with a crown sitting atop her head. I flipped back to the cover, it was the same image just in more detail on the page. Her beauty seemed transcendent, the artist must have been bewitched by her beauty to be able to make the reader fall into such a state of awe that I’ve found myself in.

Artemisia had briefly forgotten that that day wasn't normal, she's starting to realize, and think, that maybe she's not the one who's going crazy. The girl approached the shelves and Helga's voice danced again in her mind. "The navy blue cover book will tell you a story, I can't tell you which one, only the book is entitled to that." Artemisia didn't understand, but soon found the book near the second door. It was a heavy book, but not as thick as expected. It had a glow reminiscent of sunbeams touching the greenish water of a river or lake. It also had nymphs drawn on the cover and side of the leaves.

Both the pre-ruin and the post-ruin, I wasn't ready for any of it. My movements came to a halt when my gaze flitted across the street and landed on the poster of the new Fantasy series I had been waiting on; All the Beautiful Things. It was a trilogy. All the beautiful things are red, All the beautiful things are gold, and All the beautiful things are black. It was more like Romantasy actually. A wide grin crept up my face and I looked sideways, before slipping towards the bookstore even though I knew there was no car in sight. Volxe bookstore.

I scrunched my nose with the familiar scent of the painted paved archaic walls where the big old portraits were hanged and displayed grandly and the greek Doric columns which exhibit minimalistic beauty in simplicity. Bibliosmia... The wooden smell coming from the old books mixed with the faint aroma of coffee that surrounds this marvelous room entices me every time and bewitches me to be indulged and unravel the implicit bareness of each wonderfully crafted book up until its tiniest details. I returned the book I brought to its rightful own place and picked a new one to read on the same shelf. I traced my fingers to the dusty old letters engraved on the hardbound cover. Mythology...

’ ‘No idea… gut feeling’ ‘Or you’re the most intuitive wolf spirit I’ve ever encountered’ ‘Or that’ she replied proud of herself. I peel off the leather cover and find myself admiring and caressing the intricate design of the book cover. In its center, 3 moons are carved in the thick front cover. A full moon in the middle, flanked by to mirrored crescent moons. The full Moon hosts inside of it a tree with arrows instead of leaves, a smooth tree trunk line and 2 symmetrical curved roots pointing right and left. One could tell that the carving was actually burned wood, manufactured in a perfect style, but what was weird and beautiful in fact was that the golden-bronze background was moving, sw

"I have something amazing." "Okay?" "Like really amazing." She held something up to the camera. A book. Beautiful high-quality cover. "Recognize this?" she asked. I squinted at the screen. I couldn't see clearly from the distance. "Not from here." "It's a Virgil Abloh lookbook. From his Off-White days." My eyes widened. "What? How did you—" "Friend of a friend. Got it yesterday." She was practically vibrating with excitement. "We need to go through this together. It's incredible inspiration for your brand. The aesthetic, and even more the approach—"

He shook her from his mind and pushed open the doors to the study. The rug-lined room was bigger than B’s above-garage apartment. Floor to ceiling bookshelves dampened any noise B might made in his whiskey search. There didn’t seem to be a single inch of space on any one of the shelves. Books of all colors, textures, and sizes were packed together. In front of the book spines sat hundreds of little treasures–seashells, pocket watches, glass figurines, and carvings of creatures. So many creatures. B let his fingers drift over the book spines: The Picture of Dorian Gray. The Catcher in the Rye. The Odyssey. Brave New World. The Call of the Wild. White Noise. So many stories he’d never read and