Wonderful things contribute to the life of
my spirit everyday. With limitless pages bound by a common goal these books
keep me ticking. At night while I
shudder under my covers Ayne Rand and her John Gault have held me in a stupor
for hours on end. Making the cold seem
like a fantasy and Gault's hidden valley a physical reality. She has made me standing between my fantasies
and I.
From the first blessed page of the Cat In
the Hat I knew I was finished. My nights
of sleep seemed to have no chance. The
twisting and turning of the tongue made a game my young mind enjoyed. Books, these windows to the other side, did
not pass judgment and became my companions.
I take a book with me when I travel so if I know no person at my
destination I always have a friend with whom old times are shareable. Family without friends never provided me with
enough company. Taking a walk with the
dark elf Drizzt through the shadowed halls of his city Menzobaeren inspired
confidence in me even in the solitude of a Hawaiian vacation. Calling reading just a hobby then does it
injustice. Adventure fits it more
appropriately. Books sweep me into the
depths of imagination and let me share another persons dream while helping me
see mine. Piers Anthony taking me
through his spellbinding Juxtaposition opened my mind and revealed his dreams. I have held my grip on the exhilaration that
brought me. I never feel as complete as
when I visit another book. The ceaseless
joy bonding my mind with another realm leads straight into addiction. Finishing a good story is akin withdrawal or
the loss of a loved one. Someday a
clinic may open in the name of helping readers come back without regret. The regret of the book ending unveils the
truth in the saying "parting is such sweet sorrow."
I harbor no doubt of the knowledge and
abilities books shamelessly impart upon me.
I wallow in it at every opportunity. Possessing an open mind navigates
me out of the awkward situations in life.
When I meet a new person it I feel no difficulty in sharing ideas and
making compromise. Reading a variety of
stories by a variety of authors contributed this. These authors take a masterpiece and thrown
in some dastardly character that even a mother like. I compromise with the fiend for the sake of
the whole book. I compromise with a vile
teacher for the sake of my education.
Sticking with experiences instead of jumping ship when times become
unbearable I often thank books for. In
my readings boring books find their way into my hand just enough times. Reminding me, like my mother would with a
smile, taking things for granted opens doors for their exit.
I leave this plane searching for dreamy
nights lit by stars almost biting. The
place where I exist never to perish.
Held tightly by my rainy day friend.
In his flaps riddled with adventure.
Resting in anticipation of the flesh's next excursion in a world harsh
with reality. Knowing putting down my
book for a while hurts my feelings only because no thing fleshy stacks up
against the tower of my mind. A curse on
the demon standing between my books and I.
A curse on my need for sleep and for food.
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