Have you ever read a book, at the end of which, you went.. “Well, what was that, eh?”.
A book so good you didn’t want to finish it but you also wanted to know how it ends?
A book that would have you up all night finishing it had you been still young enough to do so.. only to be defeated by sleep that seemed to reel you in at the pivotal points?
A book that made you re-read chapters or pages again just to make sure you didn’t miss anything even though a part of you wanted to go on ahead so you could finish it, only you didn’t want to, really.
A book where words seemed aplenty but at the same time just right to capture the message, the scent of old furniture or the stench of big cities?
A book you just fell in love with knowing it won’t love you back?
No? Yeah. Me neither