Friday, October 23, 2015

On books and remembrance

I remember devouring books in high school when everything tire me.
I remember staring at my dog wondering if she is speaking to me, but I wasn't listening after reading a fantasy book.
I remember loving trees reading a story of a tree that grew up with a boy and gave all her fruits and life.
I remember the mundane disappearing as I turn the pages of my book.
I remember staring at other people's books and asking what are you reading hence making a new friend. 
I remember because she was talking about Sandman I met Neil Gaiman.
I remember the library being my sanctuary.
I remember my dad insisting I read some Pulitzer Prize books and not understanding what was going on. Later dad confessed the same haha
I remember being obsess with mythology and the British council library was my favorite place to go. The long hike up the hill made me me sweat in the sticky humidity,but as my little legs push my body forward,the dins of the rushing world slowed to the sound of my panting breathe and winds brushing the rain trees lining the road.
I remember the smell of the books long unopen and the pages crackling under my fingers.
My wander lust all started from stories and as I try to grow up and read serious stuff, slowly I lose my sense of wandering and imaginings which leaves possibilities hanging on closed doors.
Books made me dream reality and my 5 years hiatus from fiction was much needed to make my reality dream.
So after a month long trip to Europe and Enroute from Singapore, my suitcase is filled with books. This time photobooks. Still through these books, I step into someone else's world but the book and the story is only complete when I look through the pictures and insert my own decodifying processes.

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