I was five the first time I went here, looking up at the high-stacked bookshelves as if they were buildings. One visit turned two, two became three, four, so on.
You don’t think anyone saw, but you can never be too sure… oh well. Read on.
I realized that reading was actually toxic for me. I get so lost in this dream-like state that I refuse to be settled back in my own true world.
I have a confession to make, I am a bibliophile and I have come to the realization that I like books more than humans and here’s why.