I love books. I seem not to understand why some people
loathe them. While some people see them as just collation of papers with
letters embedded in them, I see them as worthy friends with potentials to
change the reader from the inside-out through thoughts reconstruction and
purpose consciousness. Books wield too much power than any combination of
weaponry! Sometimes, my imagination just flips to calling them my adopted kids
but unlike little ones that suck and learn from a mother, they teach me things
deeper and walk me the higher ladders of life while guiding me into positions.
Books are full of wit and wisdom, very much strength can be drawn from them,
the more I read them, the more the light is paved across the road for me and
the more I study them, the more I found my feet incredibly so high across the
tents of the earth.
Even the smells of books are overwhelming, the scents they
give me spur the desire to breathe them in as oxygen like my life depends on
them, and to be fair enough, they really do. Newly printed manuscripts, piled
to a cover with creative design looks more like top models with fine body
soaked in adorable body spray to steal our eyes away from their faults (truth
they proclaim: do not judge a book by its cover), the smell as they hover across
shelves of library and book stores though depreciates but still carries the
originality of their carbonic scent to pick one or more and take with me. It
seems it is a deliberate act by the publishers to knowingly capture attention
not just with the design alone which attracts sense of sight but almost or all
the sensory elements of the body. I love to have them beside me as I am through
reading for the day so as to have them reveal more as I lose consciousness in
my sleep.
As much as I desire the warmth-lovely-feeling of books and
having them close beside me, I cannot but admire some wittingly crafty authors,
gifted beyond and beneath to skillfully plot or lure us into every detail of
their imaginations. I love more of those who take their time to put to papers,
the thousand minds of the readers into their spaceships of creative genius- to
take them into another planet overlooked as they interestingly are moved beyond
words. I believe the best authors are the ones that can constructively lure us
into the unknown galaxies and help us make a home within their fashioned
imagination. There is more to books than just the words, artful diagrams and
codified alphabets or letters, a good author knows for sure that the book must
just pass beyond the sensory organs, it must find abode in the mind where it
does the needful necessary: strike the reader, provoke a tissue of thoughts and
birth a desire to create. As much as I love the beauty of books, the fine
scent, the colorful suited covers, and arrangements of calligraphy, I am so
much in love with those odd intelligent authors who are more inclined to the
after-effects on their readers. A book that would not provoke a change is not
worthy of my bed, my caress and my shelf. I love books but I love eccentric
authors the more.
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