On my way home the other night, I passed by National Bookstore to buy the book my youngest sibling requested me to buy for her. As I searched through the shelves in the kids' books section, I suddenly felt the excitement that was almost nostalgia for me. It has been months since I last visited a book shop. In fact, I could no longer recall the last time I bought a book.
Holding a book with my bare hands is one of my life's greatest pleasures. I acquired it when I was still very young, before I officially went to school. The first book I touched was an orange hardbound book on English Literature. In it was the poem Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll, the first literary piece I ever read.
As a child, reading was play for me. My heart would jump for joy in the sight of a book. Mama would always come home with a book for me. Those were such blissful moments. As I grew up, my love for books grew up with me. The school library is my favorite spot in all the schools I've gone to. During spare hours, I would be seen sitting in one of its corners, skimming through pages which I would later on digest in the corners of my own room. I recall that one library card did not suffice for one semester.
The habit of reading did not fade away when I stepped out of school. But lately it's wading. Perhaps, the desire got burried underneath other plans and activities. But it's never hard to rekindle it. My love for reading is easily evoked by a mere sight of a book.
That is why, I couldn't leave a bookstore without taking any book out and a resolve that return I surely will.
Reading summons me back.
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