[ WP ] Describe an object within five feet of you in as much detail as possible .

It sits there, taunting me, begging to be used. As I glance over its dark blue cover, I can see the scars of travel across its surface, each one a story. 
 
 I can feel the slight, almost wavy ripples across its surface: *'' You should n't have washed it you know'' mentions the border guard. I nod with a smile, trying to appear apologetic and naive. `` I know that... it was n't intional you idiot'' is all I want to say, but my urge to get on the plane is stronger. * 
 
 I adjust the curled corner: *Comparing pictures with new friends can be fun. Comparing bad pictures is better. The problems arise when you do these comparisons after a few drinks. At some point, someone thinks it's a great idea to toss around these booklets ( which are out only way out of the country ) like a frisbee. Fortunately I was able to keep track of which was mine in my drunken stupor, and I only hit about five people ( or more accurately, new friends ) in the head as I learned the proper throwing technique. * 
 
 I eye over the front of it. Bold golden letters run across the top and bottom, bookending a huge golden crest that I hardly recognize. I gingerly begin to open it. The front cover is barely attached to its back, and it separates as I begin to open it up: *You would think that I learned my lesson when I put it through the wash, but it's easy to ignore these things when its 42 degrees, and the water is right there. A few rough waves, and bit of salt water later, and the book of paper was barely hanging on. No, not paper. Paper would have been destroyed in a few days with how I treat this thing. Somehow it has managed to last years. I would not be shocked if it was something closer to kevlar then paper. * 
 
 I begin to flip through the booklet. Birthday, place of birth, full legal name, blah blah blah. On to the interesting stuff. The early stamps have faded, partly by time, partly by my abuse. Most of them are quite boring, just black ink stating an entry and exit date. A few countries have some flair though, and one or two are downright colourful. Each of these stamps was the beginning of another story. Just seeing the names of the places I've been helps me feel at ease. As I approach the end of the booklet, I notice a folded up plane ticket dated just a few days ago. On that same page, yet another stamp, this one shows no signs of fading. 
 
 The last few pages are empty, stories yet to be made. I reach the end, and place it back down on my desk. I could store this just about anywhere, but I choose to have it laying on my computer desk. It's not taunting me, it's reminding me.
