Books
That , it appears, is the only problem with books. That one innocent little paragraph, so quaintly tucked away in an otherwise ordinary part of a random book. That’s all it takes. And the paragraph takes you away so, so far beyond the scope of the book, so deep into the forgotten recesses of your own heart, that you hardly remember your way back. You begin to wonder how it is that the writer, probably living richly off his/her royalties in a picturesque part of the world, managed to delve so deep into your very soul, managed to knock your breath out with such finesse. Well, music can sometimes be guilty too, in this respect. And this time a book takes me to another of those places. You know, to where someone in the enthralling, gripping text does something that is not only so touchingly selfless, so human in such a forgotten way, but also so similar to what you could’ve done, to what you should have willingly done when a similar event came to pass. And you so want to be like...