It began with a word; an ideological manifestation into the writer’s mind that,through a determined spillage of ink, form symbols that spell words. The words begin to dance across pages, moving from a languid yet artistic freestyle to a beautiful and sophisticated waltz. The pages journey forward to checkpoints resembling chapters. Eventually a group of chapters encompassing many plots and sub-plots culminate in a denouement, which ultimately winds down to a conclusion.
But what of those who travail the sea of letters? How did they come upon such a scripted journey into the unknown? The answer requires a discussion of a book’s personality. In Harry Potter, Olivander the wand maker claims that wands choose the Wizard. Similarly, Books choose their readers for as you walk by, a certain one will leap into your arms and render you powerless in the midst of such spellbinding prose.
When conclusion’s doorstep is knocked upon, a sense of helplessness builds and the last page is turned, a feeling of exhaustion is broached as several lives have been lived during the course of the journey.
Unfortunately, the problem is, we’ve reached an impasse. We’ve become so hell bent on teaching great books that somewhere down the line, we’ve stopped teaching a love for reading. Nevertheless, if you ever truly wish to experience immortality read a book, for a book is the only immortality.