The shortest road to escape is the first book in sight. There are days like this, when you feel separated from your own self and from brings you the sense for meaning. Days, when you just want to allow yourself to be weak, because you are tired of being strong. A moment, when you need to escape from everything and everybody – including your own self. Because what chases us with the highest intensity is what we carry inside of us.
In moments like that, I run away and hide – in books. Yesterday, it was one of the days when I needed to run away from my world and merge in the world among the pages. I went in a bookstore and I gave myself time – and as I think, the time has stopped. It was me and the countless rows of souls, which were placed on the shelves. Headlined which packed so much meaning. Something like people – everybody has a name and you do not understand everything from it, but as if it hides the magic that the person carries inside.
I was looking at the books, and I was slowly walking between the rows and I was waiting for a book to call me. Every now and then, a word made something tremble inside of me and I reached to the book, and nervously opened it, hoping that I will read the lines that will make me wanna read every single word.
I spent there about 30 minutes. I do not even remember what happened around me – I didn’t notice the people. I was looking for something – I have no idea what, but I knew that I needed something that was hiding inside the souls packed on the shelves.
I love books – they are an escape and a rescue. When you feel weak, you run away from your own world and you merge in theirs. There, it feels as if you gather, what you lack. A journey, throughout which you build in yourself, what has been destroyed in your reality. A journey, where words touch the strings of your soul – you laugh, you cry, you anticipate, you get disappointed or surprised. You allow yourself to be everything and to experience everything – and once again be untouched, or even a little bit more complete.
You turn back to the past or you jump in the future. If you prefer, you can stay in the present. It doesn’t matter – you travel in time – the only moments, when you own the time and it doesn’t own you.
Yesterday I ran away – in the books, which called me from the shelves and I once again got out of there a little bit stronger, a little bit more understanding. Books dress my pain in meaning; by fears in understanding and my doubts in confidence.
An escape or a journey… I do not know, but I love being distant from my own self, from everything and everybody. I love books, because among their pages, I leave disappointment, fear, love, hope, the past and I can postpone the future. Among words, I remodel my own self, my emotions and my thoughts.
Words are the fingers, which remodel my mind and my soul. They gently touch and reshape – they cut the edges, remove the excess and make everything fit.
The shortest road to escape is the first book in sight…
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