Here is the dreamer. One who created and played with the pen and the keys of a world soon unmade. She remembers the wind, water, earth and flame. She loved even shadows but knew naught of hate. With a heart too soft and a strength unseen, she loved the world and she lived a dream.

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Library Hour

84. It is not new knowledge to you that I adore fiction, especially the fantasy, historical, romantic kind. Every time I'd find myself alone during those days apart from you, I'd find solace in books. I'm an avid borrower at the library and would read there during my free time. I think that it was because I was a bit of a loner when I was in grade school; books were simply friends that were always unquestioningly there. Once I got into reading, I just kind of didn't stop. My real circle of friends were readers too. When we'd have one of our fights, I'd practically seek sanctuary there at the library, burying my nose in a good novel. I had hoped that you'd change your attitude towards books through time, but to no avail. The only books you'd ever come within touching distance of were hardcore history books. One time I had lent you a short pocketbook but you'd never even finished a chapter. You returned it to me after a month. I've often daydreamed once we were married that I'd read to you before we'd sleep. Perhaps starting out with funny little short stories to pique your interest. But I don't know, I'd also imagined you tired after a long hard day at work and just longing for a soft bed and a warm female body beside you ready for cuddling or something else. We could perhaps do a bit of both, don't you think? And it doesn't have to be a book since we'd have access to the internet anyway.  

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