Even a book is no judge, part 2

I was placed on a new shelf. In a study with no windows. There was more dust than air in this room and the musk was so strong that it seemed to penetrate down to the ink on my pages. Fat fingers fumbled through my pages. This man read much too quickly, glancing over many key points in many ideas. He was a clumsy man. He dropped me multiple times and tore many of my pages as he would turn them in haste. I spent what seemed like a month in this prison, but because I had no windows I have no idea how long it really was. It had to be about a week. I was soon writen off as mediocre by this ogre of a man. He knew much fewer than he presented to others. He often offended where my former master wondered. He soon put me down for another volume, not even finishing all of my content. This was a very impatient man who didn't know what he was missing. He finally had enough of me and discarded me on the side of the road. I was truly grateful for my fate as I felt that nothing could compare to the torture that I had endured in that man' s presence. Later that night I was once again plucked from my resting place. My final resting place was desicrated by a man that smelled of liquer and seemed to very needing of cleansing. I cringed as he placed me in one of his grimy pockets and walked on into the fog.