When we first moved into our new house in the early 80's, it was something akin to 'Little House on the Prairie'. It was not the house itself but the surrounding flat-lands. With no telephone and few neighbors, we were literally cut-off from the rest of the world. There weren't too many children to spend time with and I grew with up with books being a constant companion. My parents, who were avid readers themselves, would surprise me with a book every birthday, Christmas and Easter. And I was on 'pins-and-needles' till i could dive in to my new read. I had some 'read-along' ones that I absolutely adored and my trusted Sony Walkman soon transported me to a land of giants, witches, ogres, leprechauns, dwarfs, princesses and fairies of the fantasy world.
My newly crowned King of thrillers |
When I was asked why I loved reading - I had an answer to that. Books don't judge, I said, and they are always waiting to be held, the words leaping out to wrap around me, just like a warm blanket on a cold day. A temporary escape from reality. Can anything beat the smell of a book - the feel of brand new pages waiting to be opened and the mysteries within its folds explored or even one from the library or a second hand bookstore for that matter, waiting for a new home ..... I don't think so!