I miss walking on aisles lined with bookshelves, spending hours - but it never feels that way - reading title after title, going nowhere exactly but every step has a purpose that leads me to that one book. Then I just know. Magical.
I dream of entering a bookstore, covered with spines from ceiling to floor, light seeping through cracks on the spaces between books. It's the only maze I'd never wanna get out of.
The feeling of letting time slip away, no worries, because time seem to slow when I'm surrounded with books.
No comments:
Post a Comment