I think of reading a book as no less an experience than travelling or falling in love.
I’m not an extraordinary worker, I’m an extraordinary daydreamer. I exceed all my fantasies—even that of writing.
Palestinian school boys light candles during a protest against the severe fuel cuts that lead to power shortages in the Jabalia refugee camp, Gaza Strip. Photograph: Mohammed Talatene
I lay on the bed and lost myself in the stories. I liked that. Books were safer than other people anyway.
21. Would suggest to a friend
A man sets out to draw the world. As the years go by, he peoples a space with images of provinces, kingdoms, mountains, bays, ships, islands, fishes, rooms, instruments, stars, horses and individuals. A short time before he dies, he discovers that the patient labyrinth of lines traces the lineaments of his own face.
But in truth books have no owner. Every book you see here has been somebody’s best friend.
Student Rebecca Shapiro’s, Borges, “The Garden of Forking Paths” (by Letterologist)