Books. Every once in a while I feel the need to rant about books. Books, oh books. What would I do without them. They take me places, they introduce me to worlds unknown to me. They tell me stories, learn me things. Even when I am not reading and all of them just stand in my bookcase together, leaning on one and other like tired old ladies, they whisper at me softly. ‘You are going to be fine. You are going to be fine.’ I don’t believe them most of the time. But the thing about books is, they are patient. Very, very patient and they don’t give up. Even if they stand unread in a dusty corner of an unused room for years and years, they still have hope. Hope to be discovered, hope to be read, hope to be understood. And even after ten years they still whisper quietly when I come home: ‘You are not alone. We are here for you. You are going to be fine.’
(Source: creationoftheday)
