Suddenly books become an unexplored array of thoughts which you never have set foot on, but want to have all of it at the same time. Every time I come across a place filled with books the urge to know each story becomes so powerful as to make me wonder where this sudden uprise and swell in my being has come from.
We are always caught up among a story. Whether ours or some stranger's. For me, what defines the art of making love with books is the simple joy of switching them randomly, pausing myself in a story and then hopping into another one, completely new, for a while as the previous one awaits my return. It sometimes takes days or months to get back to that unfinished story, but even that has a serene calm attached to its ceremonious wording.