Dear glued together, printed sheets of paper,
You’ve been my constant companion all my life. I can not recall a time when I wasn’t at least reading two books at a time or have had someone read them to me.
Especially now in those times where only uncertainty is certain, I turn to you to take me away. You’ve always taken me in like my granny used to do, hug me, give me advice, comfort me and make me forget about everything for a while.
When I turn the first page, and the lines of reality and fiction start to blur. And won’t let me go long after the last page is read.
I love how you make me believe in magic, castles, fairytales, myths and hope. How you are able to turn a seemingly dull train ride into an adventure that I wish never ended? How do you hold so much power over me, especially way after midnight?
In these past six weeks, you’ve proven yourself worthy again and have made my days brighter. You’ve put smiles on my face and tears as well – but in a controlled way, not like reality keeps doing this week.
When someone asks me about my perfect Sunday, I either think of travelling, scuba diving or you, dear books. Sitting in my wing chair in front of my bookshelf that I could look at for hours, with a pot of tea and a book to show me parts of the world I long to see.
One thing, dear books, you have to explain: Why are your last pages always flying by like cars on the highway? Is it just me that slows down her reading pace at the end of a good book to spend more time reading and enjoying it?
Thank you for the letters that form words that form sentences that form paragraphs that form chapters that form books. That form stories. Thank you for your company and love, keep sending the good ones to me, take good care,
ps. Favourite books I’ve read during the lockdown:
Read my other love letters
A love letter to faraway places
A love letter to Jerusalem
A love letter to Tbilisi
A love letter to our travel buddies
A love letter to Lviv
A love letter to those window views
Read all travel love letters
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