And here is a refuge, a room filled with weapons. Books spill over the shelves, patient in their want to be noticed. Caressing these old spines, walking among stained pages, I find where I belong. Depart from reality for a time. Entering all these worlds and other lives, why on earth would I want to live the life that’s truly mine? Familiarity sees, rushes over, embraces all the souls who seek this place. Gracious God knew we’d have books, and so he lets us wander. He loves when we explore his world, even if we don’t leave the comfort of our chairs. Ink printed on pages, what a glorious smell, but even if I had a candle filled with chemicals made to smell that way, it wouldn’t compare with the truth.

“Julianne!”

Knowledge calls my name, but I restrain yet, determined in my fantasy. Love– my own– overflows to these volumes, but do they reciprocate my cares? 

Models to live, models to die, these books on the shelves are teachers of the best lessons. Never was there a prettier lie or a harsher truth than these creations of brilliant minds and ambitious dreamers. Oh, the sweet taste of a new story is like drinking the ink itself, and the readers know that’s what they need to survive. 

Patience. 

Quell the struggles of true life until you are shoved back in its sight. Rarely there are those who don’t see the appeal until the veil is torn in two and a world explodes around them. Sharp and clear, a story is born one more, and characters journey with the reader until the sunset falls. 

Tell the tale a thousand times, and nobody bats an eye. Ultimately, they make a choice, and I choose the door above, not to the right or to the left. Vainly I reach out to find my own destiny among these tattered words. Writing now, creating a new song; it blooms brightly. X- raying the human mind, the human heart. You and I, dear story, will never be the same again…. Zoo full of patient predators ready to bring you into our Mad, Little World.