The One and Only Book on My Bookshelf

 

A book. It’s a fascinating and entirely different world created by combinations of simple words. Page after page books feed our imagination and let us experience things that we would have never heard or thought of otherwise.

The book. It speaks to us in a special and magical way giving meaning and purpose to our life. It was destined for us to read. This book feels like a discovery of something that we were meant to find. Seems like the story in it was written especially for us, like the characters are us, only somewhere in a parallel universe.

Everyone can find their book because every book that could be written already is. I believe that the same ideas are born to unlike people living at different times in various places and cultures. Despite the way we shape our thoughts they all arise from the same fears and desires we share.

We might read 50 books about one and the same thing before we find the one that expresses the idea in a way that blows us away. We can not know when, where or who wrote it before it lands in our hands, but we’ll definitely know once it does. It matches us just like our fingerprints do.

We’ll become addicted to a certain genre and read many books before the one comes along. We’ll be longing for something that the story we just finished reading resembled, but never fully gave it to us. At the same time, we’ll get inspired by a feeling that we’re slowly getting somewhere, that one day in our search for perfection it’ll show up on our doorstep by itself. The perfect book written just for us.

And that someday, once it actually does, we’ll call it the love our life and that person will turn all the pages we’ve got left and make “the end” seem like the start.

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