Sincerity

the craziest thing about books is you can pick one up and remember exactly where you read and what you felt like when you read it. maybe it was a summer afternoon and you were sad, maybe it was a school night and you were up much too late and already feeling the next morning’s regret, maybe you read the book right after a fight with your mom and you were angry. and a book brings all those emotions and memories back, even if you don’t remember the story the book actually holds. don’t tell me literature isn’t magic 🪄

every book on my shelf has such a distinct memory! even the smell of the book has some random memory attached to it... literature is magical indeed  *☆ ✧*:･ﾟ✧

be having full blown conversations lmao

That intimate moment between you and the book you have just read the last words of, where you sit there taking in the enormity of what you have just finished.

pure state of content. the best feeling.

:)

nothing will remind you that eating is good and okay like fantasy books will. “and that night in the valley they brought out the best plum cake and sweet cream, trout and turnips roasted over the fire, mead and goatsmilk and fresh cold water from the spring-“ and it’s like yeah dude you’re absolutely right. then sometimes it’s like “as he slept that night in the woods, he sorely missed the valley, where they brought out the best plum cake-“ and it’s like man that sucks i’ll have some seconds in his honor

reminds me of reading Enid Blyton’s Malory Towers or St. Clare’s stories, as a kid, and wishing I was in a dormitory in England sneaking out at night to enjoy tart and bread and cheese on the countryside by the stream...