It’s not as if I don’t have anything to read; there’s a tower of perfectly good unread books next to my bed, not to mention the shelves of books in the living room I've been meaning to reread it all over and over again. I find myself, maddeningly, hungry, and excited for the next one, as yet unknown. I no longer try to analyze this hunger and excitement; I capitulated long ago to the book lust that’s afflicted me most of my life. My adrenaline started pumping anytime I was within a hundred yards of a bookshop. I loved books nearly as much as I loved clothes. And that’s saying something. The feel of them and the smell of them. The smell of a newly-bought book, It makes me want to read hundreds of books, even thousands. 

A bookshop was like like an Aladdin’s Cave for me. Entire worlds and lives can be found just behind that glossy cover. All you had to do was look. I read to fuel the madness, I read to forget the sadness;  it is a pity we are and will forever be a minority in this fragile world. But we don’t have to worry all about that! Let go! Get lost in books. Drop everything and read.

Reading is not just a hobby, we control it and we adapt it to our needs and rhythms. We indulge our subjective associative impulse and reactions. Here, we feel all the authors wants to feel us about all if the books and writings they produced and shared it to all of us deep and emotional readers. We readers, don’t just read words, we dream our lives in our own vicinity, we dream our lives for the better us. Writers and authors expressed their feelings in a piece of paper. They write to express; not to impress.  It taught good moral values on how we interact and communicate to other people. And it taught us to live well, live to the fullest and to break free and do something new in life.

“There’s nothing wrong with reading a book you love over and over. When you do, the words get inside you, become a part of you, in a way that words in a book you’ve read only once can’t."