Chasing the High
It's happened twice in my life so farthe high. The first time I still lived with my parents.It all started on the floor of the lounge one eveningI was about eighteen years old. Itended in the early hours of the next morning after staying up all night, slumped in a leather recliner. The second time was during a long distance train journey with workwhile thundering across the country the world around me became impossibly distant and unimportant.
You're probably wondering what I'm talking about.
Books. Stories. Reading.
Twice in my life I have been lucky enough to experience books that opened up direct connections to the dark and mysterious parts of my brain that deal with intangiblesimagination, emotion, memory, hopes, dreams, and fears. While the details of the stories themselves may have faded over the years, the memory of the journey the books took me onburns brightly. Just one more page. One more.
Every time I pass a book store, a part of me awakens. Maybe I'll find another book likethat one today? Maybe it's just waiting there on the shelf for me to find it. Maybe nobody else knows it's there.