The smell of books has become an addiction.
The smell of books has become an addiction. The books have become my drugs.
The smell of books has become an addiction. The books have become my drugs. The librarian has become my dealer.
My fingertips slowly slide across the spines of books that never fail to rescue me from the cruelty of reality.
That was what I needed, a sanctuary; a book to escape into.
The library as beautiful as it was, had a bitter sweet feeling.
It was the source of my peace but is also the most torturous place whenever I was in search of another story to bury myself into.
There were so many options, so many different worlds and universes all compacted in pages of the wondrous books in their towering shelves.
How could I choose?
But I have to choose...
But I have to choose... To keep my sanity.