For some of us,
books are as important as
almost anything else on earth.
What a miracle it is that
out of these small, flat, rigid
squares of paper unfolds
world after world after world,
worlds that sing to you,
comfort and quiet or excite you.
I’m Red, all in, no hesitation 🙂
What color are you?
I have never been a person enamoured with that thing called adventure. If there is something exciting going on, I am usually heading in the other direction. For me adventure is ‘trying out a new restaurant’, or ‘cutting an extra inch off my hair’.
I think the technical term is ‘novelty averse’.
I am the sort of person who feels deeply emotional when hearing an anecdotal story about someone I have never even met. Homeless puppies, sagas of lost journals, can really tear me up. If there’s a spider trapped in a sink, I am the kind of person who rescues it—Ok, maybe not the spider.
Despite this I have lived a million adventures within the pages of a book, and particularly bloodthirsty adventures at that!
Yes, I should confess at this point that I possess particularly violent taste when it comes to other peoples adventures. Torture and killing is absolutely fine in the quest of a good story—the more brutal the better. Our heroes wouldn’t have a chance to shine without a few trials and obstacles in their way.
Let’s face it, a walk in the park never made a hero—unless the walk in the park happened to involve thwarting an attack by soul-eating aliens with secret plans to destroy the earth…
Perhaps it’s just as well that I stick to the books 😉