Biblichor

A walk through reality

Amidst the shelves of dusty tomes

Paves a way

To the infinite world of fantasy

Golden, ethereal ichor

Flows through the veins of the mucid leaves

The scent of the words

Reignites vivid, erstwhile memoirs

Soddy notes, a tinge of acrid smell

With a whiff of vanilla

Over a cardinal mustiness

That’s my heaven; a dream come true from a wishing well

(I came across two lovely posts, this morning. One, by Prajakta, and the other one, by Nimi ma’am. They brought back a plethora of memories; all those sleepless nights spent reading my favourite books. Those tears of joy, pain, and not to forget sadness when one of my favourite characters got killed. Yes, I cried, when Dobby died. Yes, I cried, when Sirius died. And, yes, I cried, when Snape died. However cliched it may sound. Those times, when I used to read Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, quietly during my History lessons. Oh, so much fun! When mother dear, would scold me for not having my meals, because I used to get totally engrossed in my books. The numerous arguments we have had, solely due to the reason that, she wanted to chat with me regarding “how was my day” and yada yada, while all I wanted to do was, read, in peace. Dad and me, we’ve gone through similar experiences as well. They have labelled me as “unsocial”. Ha! Anyway, the joy of reading…is indescribable.)

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