I recently
hired a carpenter to give shape to my dream – a permanent home to my orphaned
books. Just as a collector lays bare his collection every now and then to approve
of it, I would visit the sacred corner after every minute to smile and pat my
back for it. Once it was complete, it dazzled with the radiant of my exquisite
collection. I was beaming with pride.
Next day
when I found my neighbor staring at my pretty wooden bookshelf, I was dead stricken
with terror. The first thought that crossed my mind – “What if he took one
away?” On another thought, I myself took out a book, handed it over to him and
hoped he would find it just as fascinating and life-changing as I did. As is
said, “if you love
your books, let them go.”
I simply
adore my books. On rainy mornings, lazy afternoons, breezy evenings and moonlit
nights, I sit in front of my bookshelf and caress my precious books just like some
young woman would lay out her shoes on the floor to admire. I swear - if my
house ever caught on fire, I would somehow, someway, will gather enough power
to rescue all my books! They are my windows through which I see this world and
learn about its people, places, cultures and adventures. Books define my
thoughts, and I honestly believe that if I had not read particular authors, I
wouldn't be me now.
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