Wandering through the whispering wilderness, hearing the calls of the temptresses beckoning me to stay-stay in their warm embrace, allowing myself to fall-fall deeper than I ever have into the perfect golden paradise of
The Library
Where life is silent and yet so full-full of adventures the likes of which one can only imagine for they exist only between the pages-pages of magic and wonder, victory and surrender, love and loss-loss so powerful that one finds themselves drowning in gut-wrenching agony-drowning in a pool so deep that it is unlikely that one will ever resurface. And yet resurface one does in the warm, protective confines of
The Library
Where one can slip away from the terrible tireless tedium of everyday life-life that holds no excitement-excitement that can only be discovered when one prowls through the shelves hunting-hunting for the only thing that will satisfy the craving-the craving for something far more-more than one will ever find in the constraining, mainstream world in which we live-live hopefully; waiting, wanting, wishing for something-anything extraordinary to happen: like the words-words that sweep one off one’s feet, carrying one into uncharted territory to be explored with new, wonder-filled eyes-eyes that were once bleary and bored open to marvel at the world to which one’s traveled-a world that is concealed from all those who never venture into
The Library
If anything you learn from me, learn this; no matter how tightly life has bound you, you can always escape through the ever-open, ever-welcoming vault of safety known simply as
The Library.