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Some writers and some books are so comforting, so enriching that I have to devour the book instantly. The words leap off the book and become a part of me. I love intense books. Especially when I feel at a loss of words. I find that the intensity from the books then transfers into my body and I feel uplifted.

I didn’t know this about myself for a long time. I read books and devoured them without really identifying what I liked most or what kind of writers I enjoyed on a level deeper. Some made me feel better with more ease. But I couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

I still attempt to read books by various authors. But in my moments of weakness, darkness and confusion, my body advances towards certain kinds of books. I stay in this frame of mind till the book is done and I have enough fuel, ammunition to prod through life again.

My sister is not wrong when she says I dwell and live free in the magical lands of words. In the articulate words of another. In the never-lost-land of my own.