I spent an unusual amount of time poring over my parents books. Not really perusing them, just browsing, looking at the titles, the pictures etc. My dad had a lot of these kind of occult books - as a bored and lonely kid in the countryside I kept coming back to them as a kind of power fantasy, reading some of them until the more ghost-story-like ones kind of freaked me out (eg Carlos Castaneda). The whole time is a mishmash of creaky floorboards, the smell of dust, the RPG magazines I collected, and metal albums.