From a young age, I’ve loved to read. When my cousins were constantly thinking of buying toys or clothing, I would always be making a wishlist of books. I’m a little socially awkward. I prefer the company of books and stories to an actual person. It’s hard trying to make new friends and letting people in to get to know me. My parents would complain about how much money I’ve spent buying books and I would get a monthly quota. I now have so many books till I don’t know where to put them. As I’m now in university, my books at home are in storage boxes. It’s kinda sad.
Everytime I’m back at home, I would go through the boxes and re-read some of my old favourites. Most of my books are yellowing but I absolutely love the smell of old books. The smell is apparently because of lignin, which is present in all wood-based paper and is closely related to vanillin. As it breaks down, the lignin grants old books that faint vanilla scent.
The best thing about reading a book is that the stories are only limited by our imaginations and I use them to escape from reality sometimes. The fact that the world that I step into as I read was created from the mind of the author (which is basically out of thin air) is really amazing. The capability for the human mind to imagine and create stories constantly amaze me every time I read a good book.
I’ve no time for reading this week because of assignments and reports. How I wish that I could curl up in bed with a good book and a cup of tea right now. Ah, sweet bliss.