indeed. pages of books do smell good. kind of addictive. well yeah, took three days to finish a five hundred pager, describing a day's events and misfortunes. I salute Dan Brown.
it is very true that books take you anywhere around the world, even to Timbuktu. some take you to extraterrestrial regions where your imagination roams free; others take you back to the 19th and 20th century during The Great Depression and the Industrial Revolution. you'd be amazed how hard ingenious criminals plan, months ahead, to rob gold worth billions of pounds in a train, or how terrible things can go wrong when a space shuttle's return carrying bacteria from outer space kills a town-full of people. sometimes even those whom you called dearest could plan your death whilst holidaying in an Oriental Express, without you suspecting they loathed you so much. impressive nonetheless.
it is very true that books take you anywhere around the world, even to Timbuktu. some take you to extraterrestrial regions where your imagination roams free; others take you back to the 19th and 20th century during The Great Depression and the Industrial Revolution. you'd be amazed how hard ingenious criminals plan, months ahead, to rob gold worth billions of pounds in a train, or how terrible things can go wrong when a space shuttle's return carrying bacteria from outer space kills a town-full of people. sometimes even those whom you called dearest could plan your death whilst holidaying in an Oriental Express, without you suspecting they loathed you so much. impressive nonetheless.
a scene in Dickens' Hard Times. from a chapter:Starlight.
what matters is not only the joy of having finished reading something, but also the things you discover, insights you have gained along the way.
buhbye!
some not-looney-at-all tunes. this. and this.
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