I love books. It comes with the territory of being a writer, I reckon. My fondest childhood memories involve visits to our local library and afternoons spent curled up on the sofa or in my bedroom, devouring the pages of my beloved books. I even used to imagine I could be like Matilda from the famous Roald Dahl story book. She was my childhood heroine.
Books are visual. Books are tactile. Books have a unique smell that just makes you feel safe and exhilarated at the same time. They take you to foreign countries, alien landscapes, and they introduce you to people that you may never meet in real life due to circumstance and fate. I love the crisp, clear sound of a page when you turn it, and that crack of the spine when you open a book for the very first time. Yummy!
It is incredibly difficult for me to walk past a bookshop. I have to step inside, even just for five minutes, so that I can wander around and gaze lovingly at the contents of the shelves. My favourite bookshops are the secondhand ones, where you find dusty old stacks, piles of treasured paperbacks and hardbacks, and dimly lit, narrow corridors between the bookshelves. Bliss!
See you tomorrow, for the next letter in the #AtoZChallenge, and why not download my brand new short story, The Wolf and the Fairy: A Contemporary Adult Fairy Tale in the meantime.
*Photo credit courtesy of Jolley Tots Photography, Herefordshire