Because they are fascinating. Because when you are immersed into them you forget of anything surrounding you. Because when you are captivated by them you are there, with all your soul and mind, experiencing freedom and bondage at the same time. Because they can take you up to the sky or to the darkest of places.
Because of this and not only… I love books.
Is it the fact that a writer wants to leave something behind, to expose his soul, his mind? Even though sometimes is not that obvious… There is always something that is specific to the author, something unique some would say. But are we not unique and original? Should that mean that we could all be some kind of authors?
In the era of speed could one still leave a mark behind? People don’t stop to admire the marks left behind by planes as once did. The snow melts, the sand is flown away by the wind and all that remains is dust. Or… the fragrance of a soul, the echo of a violin’s string, the shout of some words engraved on a heart.
Words… Words who have the power to fight time, to travel beyond the realms of imagination.
Words… that give a new perspective to a melody.
Words… who are light and heavy at the same time.
Words… or I could simply say, A mark in the air.