So you're done with the book.
A second round would be redundant.
...and you know that.
But you can't stop thinking about its stories
It furnishes your life with dreams and fantasies.
As you flip the final leaf, reality becomes bleak.
You lose all touch of faith.
As long as the book remains on a surface,
The book stares at you in the face,
no matter where you put it.
Move it out of your sight.
and any connections with the book must disappear.
...though I never find it effective.
I'd rather...
Take up another book.
Indulge...
There are so many other authors
With better stories to tell
All the exitement from the other book
will soon be forgotten.
It will be abandoned.
Soon it will be just another mess
And hopefully this new joy
Will inspire you to write your own stories
And create your own fantasies
And create your own fantasies
For the both of you to live in.
I wish you all the best Z...
2 comments:
ahh, the ephemeral quality of the print. the life of a single page can only live for that mere few seconds, and to tell that story inside it needs to be attractive enough for you to even look at it.
and when you're done, you just put it away.
i guess there's another story, other than just the book, that you're trying to tell here, right? :)
Hahaha... yes.
For a split second I actually thought you were indulging in the book per se more than the analogy itself. But glad to know that you're smarter than that. Or smarter than most. I think.
It's for a dear friend. Tryna not make it so obvious... somehow. haha~
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