The personal loss of a printed book

Over the last few days, I’ve been getting the feeling that buying a Kindle is the best decision I’ve ever made. What I find unsettling, however, is that I don’t seem to miss printed books as much as I thought I would: the transition was so smooth that it might almost have been irreversible. It seems I fell in love with what the books had to say and not with the books themselves, a disengagement with the metaphysical form and a betrothal to its humble, degenerate function