"Is that so?" Campanella chuckled in reference to the garden. "I very much doubt that. It sounds such a peaceful place. My sanctuary is my apartment. Its... Up high in down town. From it I'm safely cocooned from the world and I can look down on the streets below. And on the World Peace Rose Gardens..."
He slipped into silence for a moment.
"I agree completely about the books," he said returning to an earlier theme. "A good book has weight. Not just a physical presence but... I don't know the word... A metaphysical one? There is so much more meaning in the printed page than in a tablet. A tablet is a tool. A book is... more... I think."
He moved slightly.
"I love old books. The binding. The paper - not cheap pulp but good rag stock that lasts for centuries. The smell of them. The feel. Even the sound of them, as you turn the pages. Its comforting."
He looked at his companion thoughtfully.
"You have a favourite genre or specific interest?" He dropped the question, idly wondering what (or if) he'd turn up something interesting.